Often, it can be hard to love others authentically. Ever noticed that?
It can be hard to drop TV and take a meal to a sick friend's house. It can be hard to make a phone call when you had a horrid day. It can be hard to write another blog post when you're struggling to get by yourself.
But then you think about love. You think about who He is. Jesus.
You think of how he went out there, carrying what was back-breaking, burdensome and unbelievable. . . and he kept going. With us on his mind. With our sin on his back. With our pain that became his pain.
Jesus doesn't give up on love. I am compelled not to either.
With this, I've been observing it...Love-in-action. Others have loved me a lot lately: They've taken me into their home when I almost had no home. They've made me food when I didn't have much to offer. They've texted me even though I haven't talked to them in years. They've just done stuff in the face of this post-Irma trial.
And in their actions I can see love is what it is all about. It's about me, and not giving up. It is about me, and enduring. It's about me, and believing God can, and will.
It is also about you. It's about you and acting anyway. It is about you, and reaching out. It is about you, and responding kindly. It is about you, and giving to the person with nothing left to give. It is about continuing to speak authentically when the trials of life leave you breathlessly out of words.
I was thinking of all this today. And then a friend wrote me and said her life was changed because of my breathless writing. It wasn't in a big way or even a big deal. But that's how the responses to love usually appear - small, little, inconsequential. But somehow, I figure they’re not. The small thank yous? They all add up to something monumental and massive over all the years in the sight of God.
The bottom line to today's post is this: We don't know how much all our small breathless acts of love change -- everything.