Fruitful Love

I always like things wrapped with a bow – to fix problems, to know where I stand with others, to know the right answers. I struggle with the dark times, when I grapple, when the illusions in life are pulled away – the biggest illusion – that I can know anything with absolute certainty. Yet, I am finding a strange comfort over time with not knowing. It is obvious to me that God exists, that His creation shows us His hand, yet we take it all on faith this side of heaven. I trust that the still, small voice within is the voice of a loving Creator seeking union with His creature. I trust that He loves me even when He is quiet. I trust that my relationships with others are still okay, even when I haven’t seen them in a long time. I trust that the sun will still shine tomorrow and the day after that until I meet God face to face.

I heard a question somewhere awhile back, “Can you love what you can’t control?” I am finding that I can’t love what I can control, because then it is no longer a gift to be freely given and received. I admit this was very hard at first and still is at times. I realized that a relationship wasn’t what I thought. I realized some questions would never be answered, and yet, many are if I am willing to live in faith. And yet, that is the hardest thing at times. I think God is not allowing me to know many things with certainty, because in my idea that I had any control, I’d forget to let Him be my all.

As I discern the daily alterations between consolation and desolation, as I listen to what my emotions and body are trying to communicate, I realize how true were the words of St. Augustine, “my heart is restless until I rest in thee.” Everything else is an illusion or fickle or impermanent – a puff of smoke, a blade of grass, here today and gone tomorrow.

I realize how exhausted I am at times by trying to figure it all out, by the games people play, by the constant noise and activity of the world, and I walk away. And rest. And yet, something else happens. True love is born in my heart. It is not there because of any warm, fuzzy feelings or because I myself or anyone else deserves it, but because God is living within with such intensity that it can’t help but be expressed.

Suddenly, I can’t help but to see others as I imagine He does. They may disappoint or hurt me deeply. They may misunderstand or judge me. Or I might do the same. This pain feels worse than death, but suddenly all the defense mechanisms in life feel stupid. Who cares what others think about me or if my feelings are bare for them to see or if they even return those feelings? Love is a gift. And once in awhile while I’m out and about, someone stops and looks back at me and receives or maybe even returns that love, and a beautiful gift is born into the world. Their entire countenance may change in that moment. Maybe I’ll never know all the ways the love of God within me affects others or how it gets passed on. But in that moment, I experience something beautiful. I’ve just witnessed that love becoming fruitful.

Photograph by Jakob Owens, courtesy of StockSnap