Love isn’t weak
As a young man I heard an oft repeated idea. Love, as a concept within Christianity, was a simple doctrine that existed as a baseline to rise above.
It was discounted as a milk doctrine. Yes, that’s all fine and good that you focus on God’s love—or so the story would go—but let’s move past that to the weightier, more meaty, matters, such as the law, God’s divine sovereignty, the weightiness of sins, and ultimately the work we must do to absolve ourselves of our unrighteousness.
It’s not an attractive premise, this concept of focusing on our imperfections until we reach a point of sinlessness, and an ability to stand as did Jesus; perfect and without blemish in front of the overbearing weight of the Father’s wrath—only the perfect will do so, and if we’re not good enough to be perfect, God in His mercy will lay us to rest before His second Advent.
Wow, that’s terrifying.
It’s also effective in the short-term. This fear-based message, this concept of a God that demands appeasement, a Father who is ready to strike us down—save only for the pleading of Jesus, and who will be satiated only when we’ve reached perfection and he can no longer see sin in us—this is the message I grew up hearing, whether intentional or not.
There is power in this direction, a driving force of demand. You can preach messages scaring peole into submission, ever pressing down until all sense of self is lost. And it will work for a time. So long as you keep finding new people to press in, stamping out all individuality and personal expression of belief.
That’s not Jesus’ way. That’s not anything remotely close to the life our Savior led, and the path He encourages us to follow.
Jesus stands at the door and knocks. He plants seeds, he invites, he asks, he encourages. But he does not scare. He does not compel, he does not demand allegiance.
In contrast to a message that pushes us ever further toward an attempt at becoming godlike ourselves, there is a quieter call, one that reaches out and offers kindness.
I used to think a message of love was weak, that it was something for the children. As we grew into adulthood we’d improve through levels of bettering ourselves until we matched the image of God and could squeak through the pearly gates. That was, in hindsight, a belief separate entirely from the message that Jesus hoped His followers would spread.
Now I see that idea for what it is—something encouraged by an enemy of God.
It’s not weak to love, it doesn’t make us soft to open a hand in kindness. And from God’s perspective it’s not weak to have the confidence to trust your creation and help them, and let them fall, and be there to pick them up. It is, in fact, proof of the greatest kind of character, of a God that is worth following.
Jesus' way is not fear based. Rather it’s love based, it's character based, it's an invitation we’re free to accept, it's seeds planted in our heart with the Holy Spirit that will grow if unhindered.
And this is the message I want to cling to, hold to. A message of fear drives us toward a misconceived concept of ultimate perfection that we hope to gain of our selves. But, a message of love, of hope, of kindness, is something that woos us, draws us to our Savior, and is the only thing that has a lasting abiding presence.
What if we’re wrong?
That’s a question I’ve asked myself many times.
It’s possible that my whole approach is incorrect, that the Father is ready to drop the hammer at anytime, that Jesus looks on us as a demanding parent, ready to shake his head in disapproval of any missteps. If I’m wrong— well, I’m not interested in this brand of Christianity. I’d rather pull away entirely than believe for an instant that the Jesus I love would treat his creation in that way.
“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because He first loved us.” 1 John 4:18–19 (NIV)
Love and fear cannot abide together. We can choose to feverishly cling to the gripping demands of terror, always wanting more, requiring everything we can give—and it will never be enough. Or we can let go, allow God's love to encompass us, dwell within His abiding presence, and wait and see what miraculous things He will do through us.
And the beauty of this message of love? It changes us. God’s spirit of goodness moves in and through us, and transforms us—all without us lifting a finger. In fact, the only thing we can do is try to push back against it, demanding that God leave us alone. And I’m thankful that He is more patient than even the most kind and caring parent.
He continues to support us, call out to us, and send the rain to water and provide despite our misgivings, providing the breath that keeps our very cells alive.
Love isn't weak. It's not a thing to get past, to move on from when we've encountered more clever doctrines and beliefs. It's the cornerstone of everything, why Jesus came to die for us, and why He couldn't conceive of a world without us, choosing instead to give up everything for us.
That love is what I choose to follow.