Passionate pursuit of a love that does not fail
Shakespeare wrote that
". . .Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom. . ." {Sonnet 116)
We live because there is that kind of love - there must be. There is a driving need, a passion, at the core of our being for that kind of love - a love that does not change and does not fail. A love that looks us square in the face, knows all about us, and is unswervingly constant to us. We strive for, search for, seek for a love that is as broad and deep as the sea and as limitless as the sky. Our very lives depend on its existence.
What if there is such a love? What if there is such a One as could so freely ("so free it cannot be returned." -Vespers last Thursday night at BJ) love? What if He know this deep need of ours and supplies it without cost or condition to us? What if He overflows the cups of our lives with it? What if what we need is beyond this love - Himself? What if no other person can fill the hole that is Him? What if no other one's conversation or friendship or communion, "marriage of true minds," could even come close to His? What if our light opinion and casual understanding of the cost of His love does not diminish it for a heartbeat? Do I revel in that? Do I glory in that? Do I go overboard in praising and proclaiming it, shouting it from the rooftops: "I'M LOVED! I'M FREELY LOVED AND FORGIVEN!!!!!" ? Why not?
". . .Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom. . ." {Sonnet 116)
We live because there is that kind of love - there must be. There is a driving need, a passion, at the core of our being for that kind of love - a love that does not change and does not fail. A love that looks us square in the face, knows all about us, and is unswervingly constant to us. We strive for, search for, seek for a love that is as broad and deep as the sea and as limitless as the sky. Our very lives depend on its existence.
What if there is such a love? What if there is such a One as could so freely ("so free it cannot be returned." -Vespers last Thursday night at BJ) love? What if He know this deep need of ours and supplies it without cost or condition to us? What if He overflows the cups of our lives with it? What if what we need is beyond this love - Himself? What if no other person can fill the hole that is Him? What if no other one's conversation or friendship or communion, "marriage of true minds," could even come close to His? What if our light opinion and casual understanding of the cost of His love does not diminish it for a heartbeat? Do I revel in that? Do I glory in that? Do I go overboard in praising and proclaiming it, shouting it from the rooftops: "I'M LOVED! I'M FREELY LOVED AND FORGIVEN!!!!!" ? Why not?
Comments
Post a Comment