Loving the Unlovable

Occasionally something I’m reading sends a message, or the Holy Spirit does, that is undeniable. I’m supposed to read it, ponder it, study it, meditate on it, start doing it, write about it, or something. It happened the other night. It was about loving others and allowing ourselves to be loved. I know what Carol and I have shared for more than 48 years now. I know how I feel about my daughters, sons in law, grandchildren and other family members. That is unmistakable. It is very much of a mystery, but it is common enough. This was somehow different.

Before I went to bed I was reading in my new book by Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son. He had seen a picture of that great Rembrandt painting by the same name and something about it hit home. There was God accepting and comforting broken humanity, with skeptics looking on. There is love, as good as it gets. The look on the father’s face is heart-wrenching; somber, a mixture of sorrow and joy, eyes closed. The wayward son is kneeling before him, his face buried in the father’s robes. The boy is filthy dirty, clothes in tatters, hair cut off, no beard, barefoot. We can only imagine other things that make him totally ‘unlovable’. Yet the father pulls the boy to himself and puts his hands on his shoulders pulling him close. Nouwen got the chance to see the original painting in the Hermitage Museum in Moscow. It apparently changed him forever.

Then I opened a page in Frederick Buechner’s book, A Room to Remember, where he speaks of love. A couple of pages I’ve dog-eared. In one place (page 45) he brings the command “You shall love the Lord your God…” into a totally different focus. He says that the final secret to this is that these words become less of a command and wind up being a promise; in other words, we will finally be able to love like we should. This seems to acknowledge the fact that we indeed cannot love God – or others as we should – without Christ’s love working in us, making it happen. We are too limited. Our righteousness is too unlovely; too dirty; too tattered; too barefoot; too incapable.

In another place (page 113) Buechner takes Christ’s words “Come to me…” and describes them as “fresh as air, clear as water, as unpoetic as bread. It is in ourselves that the poetry must happen if it is to happen at all.” This is the ultimate invitation to be loved.

After meditating on these two places and Nouwen’s experience, I began to wonder if I love God as much as I should or if I allow God to love me the way he wants. It seems that the only conclusion we can draw regarding love is that we indeed can’t experience love in either regard like we should – not on our own anyway. I look at the picture of the father accepting his wayward son and wonder, how is it possible to love like that? How do we love the unlovable? How do we love God like we should? How do we allow God to love us like that? How do we show love to cranky neighbors? We can’t, not without the love of God entering us first, transforming us, making us into his image. It’s his love that makes that possible. It has to start there. God does not have to work at loving us. It’s the way he is.

Less a command than a promise is how Buechner put it. I think I’m still waiting for that promise to come to fruition in my own life.

A Prayer: Lord Jesus Christ, no one ever loved like you. It is so profound that we can’t comprehend it. You took us into your arms when we were filthy, dirty, tattered, barefoot and totally ‘unlovable’. Fill us with that love that causes us first of all to love you without hesitation, and causes us to love others as we should. Amen.

Thanks be to God.