Real Love

The scriptures referred to are 1 John 5:1-6 and John 15:9-17.

A young woman was lamenting the state of her marriage. “Is that all there is? You get up, work all day, come home, eat dinner, watch TV and go to bed?” Those of us who had been married for a couple of decades reflected on all the rough times, the uncertain times, the sad times, and the hectic times, and we thought, “Yeah. That's actually not too bad a day!” Real life is seldom like that of a cute couple in a TV sitcom.

But it wasn't enough for her. The next thing we knew she was divorced and then very involved with a handsome young man. He was great...except for the other woman. But he really loved her. He was going to dump that other woman. It had been a long term relationship but he didn't love the other woman anymore. He was just looking for the right time to break it off. In the meantime, she had to clear out of his place whenever the other woman was in town. But he really loved her.

I don't know all the details about her marriage. She later said it was abusive. But if so, it looks like she traded one kind of abuse for another. She couldn't see, though, because she was madly in love...with emphasis on the word “madly.”

Plato classified love as “a grave mental illness.” And people have done some strange things while in love. But it is wonderful, especially in the early stages when you are intoxicated by the presence, the look, the sound, the touch, the smell and the very thought of your beloved. Neuroscientists say that brain scans of people in love look a lot like those of people who are addicted. But the infatuation doesn't last. And that's probably for the best. To live forever in that state of excitement would probably exhaust and possibly even kill us eventually. But inevitably that phase fades, like the initial roar of a car starting up. As C.S. Lewis points out, you wouldn't want your car to rev all the time. It's bad for the engine. It needs to settle down to a gentle purr. And so should love.

Because real love is not measured by the craziness that it inspires. It is measured by how long it lasts, how many crises it weathers, how many sacrifices it gladly makes for the well-being of the people involved, how close it draws us together, how much we support each other and provide what the other lacks. Love that doesn't issue in faithfulness and commitment is just a passing, if passionate, feeling.

Last week's passage from 1 John contains one of the best known statements in the Bible: "God is love." But what does John mean by that? Does he mean that God is a good feeling? A pleasant thought? A greeting card sentiment?

He wrote: “In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” (1 John 4:10) John is not being sentimental, nor is he naive. He saw what love did. His best friend hung on a cross in agony for six hours. He heard Christ, who from eternity had always known the love of his Father, cry out as he experienced estrangement from God. That withdrawal of God's presence should have been ours, the end result of our rebellion against God. But Jesus took it upon himself. John knows all about God's love. It is costly but constant.

It is very much like a parent's love. A parent makes sacrifices for the good of the child. A career is put on hold; a vacation is deferred to pay for braces; a night's sleep is sacrificed so a science project is finished. In the animal kingdom, a bird might flop around pretending to have a broken wing to distract a fox from finding her nest. A she-bear will attack a much larger male to defend her cubs.

But Jesus surrenders his life for us. He who is the Father's beloved Son lays down his life to win back his errant creation. This is love of a higher order. The Trinity, the Father loving the Son loving the Father, united in the Spirit of love, opened itself to loss and pain and alienation and death. God opened himself to the Great Negative...and swallowed it up. (Isaiah 25:7-8) All he is was poured into and filled the void that terrifies us. And we love him because he displayed such love to us.

And if we are connected to him, he fills us with his love: eternal love, love from before all things were made, the love that circulates between the Father, Son and Spirit. If we maintain that connection, that love cannot help but overflow from us and into others.

But it is not a warm, fuzzy feeling. Jesus didn't walk around hugging people like someone in the first blush of infatuation. He went about doing what had to be done: healing the sick, correcting misunderstandings about God, encouraging those on the right track, explaining the kingdom of God, and bringing in society's outcasts. At times, Jesus gets exasperated with his disciples because they aren't getting it. But he keeps on doing what he must, like a parent.

The picture we get of Jesus in the gospels is not sentimental. But that's because it is the portrait of a person trying to raise a family. That may sound odd because the disciples are all grownups. But to God, they are like children. Jesus is doing what any good parent does: trying to get them to the point where they can stand on their own.

Some people call their pets their “fur babies.” But real children grow up and stop having to be fed, stop having to be cleaned up after they poop and pee, stop having to have someone babysit or check on them if you are gone for a significant period of time. Babies are cute but no sane parent wants them to remain infants forever. You want your children to become mature, responsible adults. Sometimes you despair of them ever doing so but that is still your hope.

And all normal children want to grow up. They want to drive a car and have their own money and make their own decisions. When you're a kid you sometimes feel like a second-class citizen. You hate the way people talk down to you, the way they don't give your opinions the same weight as an older person's, not to mention the restrictions laid on you.

The parent-child relationship is a dance in which both sides are learning the steps as they go along. And just when you get the hang of it, the dance changes. A parent spends the first half of the dance learning how to take total care of another person. Then they spend the second half of the dance learning to relinquish that total responsibility. Meanwhile the child is learning to be her own person while still being a member of the family.

So sometimes Jesus comes across as a parent. Sometimes he gets frustrated with how dense his disciples are, muttering about how much longer he is going to have to put up with this. (Matthew 17:17) Other times he is praising Peter for getting something right. (Matthew 16:17) But in today's gospel, the relationship changes. Jesus says, “I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant doesn't know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.”

The parent-child relationship starts to change subtly when a child is grown. They still don't know everything they ought to, though they think they do. They still need some experience at being adults, but you can talk to them on a level approaching equality. You can talk to them more like friends.

Jesus is saying something similar here. It is time for him to go. The disciples aren't completely ready but close enough. Now he needn't talk down to them. He can speak more intimately. The relationship is changing. Using the Greek words for the various kinds of love, we can say the love is growing from storge, the Greek word for family love or affection, to phileos, the word for friendship. But maturity won't come until they've experienced agape, divine love, the kind Jesus demonstrates on the cross.

There is one kind of love not mentioned in today's readings: eros, romantic love. But it is used in parts of the Bible. In the Old Testament, it is used as a metaphor for God's relationship with Israel, that of husband and wife. In the New Testament, it is used as a metaphor for Jesus' relationship with the church, that of bridegroom and bride. This is definitely cast in the pattern of the Ancient Near East, where the husband has the final word. But it is meant to show how much God loves us and is tied to us by a covenant. And while we frequently let him down, he never forgets to live up to his part of the relationship. This is true love: he doesn't just say he will love you forever, he promises to do so. And then he keeps those promises despite fluctuations of feelings. That's why we say in the marriage ceremony that “it is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God.” Our marriages should mirror God's covenant with his people. But whether they do or not, God's promise to us is unbreakable.

And there's one more thing. Loving God means loving people. As it says in today's passage from 1 John, if we love God, the parent, we should love his children, our brothers and sisters in Christ. As we read last week, anyone who says they love God but who hates their brothers and sisters is a liar. If you don't love those you can see, how can you love the God you can't see? (1 John 4:20) 

Preachers of hate do not serve the God who is love. Because God loves his enemies and so must we. Not sentimentally but practically as Jesus did: healing, correcting, encouraging, explaining and including. And just as we see in Jesus' life, it's not always easy; it's not exciting; it's not always fun. But it is always rewarding, provided we look to the source of all rewards: our Father, our friend, our spouse, our God, whose love never fails.

This was first preached on April 25, 2003. There has been some updating.