Is there Any Power in Simple Loving?

Is there Any Power in Simple Loving?

Sometimes I feel like my life for Christ doesn’t amount to much.  I don’t do big things that change people or their lives, and I don’t know how to do that.  Someone told me that they felt their purpose is just to love people.  But I can’t see how simple acts of love in my ordinary life could be significant.  Any ideas about that?

For years it didn’t occur to me that simply doing or saying loving things as a Christian could be significant.  But your question took me back to a time when Andrea and I were doing a course with some people who asked this question:  “What can we do that’s loving, and how could simple loving actions as Christians be powerful?”

So we decided to explore what Christian loving would look like in our daily lives.  We met with this group of people to try to see what we could learn about what loving people for God might mean.  At the end of each weekly session, I’d give them various assignments, such as focused listening and paying attention to someone in their family, getting to know people around their church, in their neighborhood or at work whom they didn’t know very well, and then experimenting with doing caring acts for people—like calling on new people moving into your neighborhood and helping them locate good cleaners, pharmacies or other services they might need.

As the final weeks of the course approached, I gave this assignment:  “Think of somebody that you really don’t like.  You don’t like to be around them, you have negative feelings and you find yourself not wanting to be with them at all.  Then do one of these loving acts that we’ve all been doing in the previous assignments with one (or more) of these people and report what happens when we meet again next week.

There was a collective groan and a spattering of chatter before the closing prayer period.  So Andrea and I were really curious to see what we and the other group members would come up with.  (We always did the same assignment as we asked the others to do.)

Well, the next week one woman—who was usually one of the last ones to report—spoke up first.  (She never had done that before.)  She said, “I just don’t believe what happened this past week! I didn’t have to go outside my own family to find somebody I didn’t like.  I have five siblings, and we haven’t communicated with each other in our family in almost twenty years.  As a matter of fact I moved out to Texas from up north to get away from them.

“Our oldest brother is the one that drove me away.  We just don’t like each other, and I haven’t spoken to him in all this time.  So although it really scared me to think about talking to him, I prayed about it and decided that he would be the one I’d contact.

“After putting it off for several days, I called him.  When he answered the phone, I felt a kind of shock to hear his voice, and I didn’t know what to say.  So finally I said, ‘Uh, Brother?’

“And he said, ‘Sis, is this you?’  And then after a brief silence, he added, ‘ What do you want?’

“I took a deep breath and said, ‘Well, I just want to…uh…to tell you… uh… that I love you.’

“Then Brother said, ‘Good grief, Sis—what’s happened to you?”

“I didn’t know what to do then, so I just said, ‘I can’t talk about it.’  And I hung up.”

Everybody laughed , and she did too.  Then I asked her, “Well how did that feel?”

“I don’t know,” she answered.  “It was frightening, but there’s more!  The next evening my sister called, the one I’m closest to.  I haven’t really communicated with her very much either but she’s the one I would call in a family emergency.  She called me from 1,500 miles away and said, ‘What in the world did you tell Brother?’

“And I said, ‘Why?’

“Then my sister said, ‘Because he just e-mailed us today that he’s sending all of us round trip tickets to Austin, TX to come down and find out what happened to you.”  And she stopped talking and swallowed hard.  And we both almost cried.

And as I heard that woman’s experience, I thought, “My gosh, I’d been thinking all my life about big things could I do for God that would be helpful.”  And then after the other group members had reported, I thought, “Maybe there are some people in my life I’m reluctant to talk to whom I just need to tell that I really care about them—because listening to that woman’s simple act of caring made me realize how important simple acts of love can be.

Lord, teach me how to be loving even toward those whom I do not like—or am afraid don’t like me.  Forgive me for reviewing in my mind all the reasons for my dislike of people who hurt me so that I can learn how to re-approach them with simple in loving ways that are genuine.  In Jesus’ name.

“You’re familiar with the old written law, ‘Love your friend,’ and its unwritten companion, ‘Hate your enemy.’ I’m challenging that. I’m telling you to love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst. When someone gives you a hard time, respond with the energies of prayer, for then you are working out of your true selves, your God-created selves. This is what God does. He gives his best—the sun to warm and the rain to nourish—to everyone, regardless: the good and bad, the nice and nasty. If all you do is love the lovable, do you expect a bonus? Anybody can do that. If you simply say hello to those who greet you, do you expect a medal? Any run-of-the-mill sinner does that.”  Matthew 5:42-44, The Message

“This is a large work I’ve called you into, but don’t be overwhelmed by it. It’s best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won’t lose out on a thing.” Matthew 10:40, The Message

“Let me give you a new command: Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another. This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples—when they see the love you have for each other.”  John 13:35, The Message

Please share your experience with us.  How has a simple act of love changed you? Post your comment below.

Is there Any Power in Simple Loving?

Squelching a Word of Love—to Keep from Being Hurt

Keith, not long ago a good friend, someone I like and respect, complimented me on some design work I’d done.  I knew he meant it and at one level I was very pleased—especially since we work in the same field and he’s very good at what he does.  But I was also, sort of… embarrassed, and felt like he could spot the defects and might just be buttering me up.  So I laughed and shook my head and said, “I was lucky they even accepted it!  I tossed it off in about thirty minutes from an idea I had in junior college.”  Actually, that wasn’t true.  I worked for days on that design.  My friend looked at me as if I’d hurt his feelings, nodded his head and walked off.  Why would I do that?  Have you had a similar experience?

Grapeleaves

Good question.  This is how I recorded my experience years ago in Habitation of Dragons: Squelching a Word of Love, page 118.

***

“That was a great job, Keith!”  The man who was speaking is a person whom I deeply respect and love.  I had just given a talk in our church, and he was enthusiastically and sincerely affirming me.

“Thanks, but I’m afraid I was too direct,” I replied.  “I was tired and felt a little hostile.”  He looked at me strangely, and I went into the educational wing to get ready for Sunday school.

While walking away, I realized what I had done.  I had very subtly and unintentionally devalued him as a person.  He was trying to tell me that I had done a good job, and he had really meant it.  But instead of thanking him for his affirmation, I had told him in effect, “Actually, you aren’t really very smart.  I heard some negative things about my talk that you didn’t hear.”  Although I had not said that, I saw that my negative reply had in some way rejected him and his kindness in complimenting me in the first place.

Thinking about what had happened; I realized how often I turn people off when they try to say something nice to me.  If I happened to make a high score on an exam in college, for instance, and someone said, “congratulations,” I might have laughed and come back with something cute like, “As much time as I spent studying for that one, an orangutan would have done well.”  I seemed to turn attention away from their attempts to affirm me, thinking somehow that I was being humble.

But now I am beginning to see that instead of humility, this inability to accept praise or affirmation is really an insidious form of pride and insecurity.  Further, it represents a completely thoughtless attitude toward the needs of the one trying to offer congratulations.  If a person is sincere with a compliment, he or she is going out on a limb to identify with me.  The person is reaching out to say, “I, too, feel as you do or appreciate life as you do.”  Or, “In some sense we are related or I would not have responded to what you said.”  But my reply of supposed humility has turned the attention away from the person giving the compliment and toward me and my cleverness.  I have devalued the offered love by joking or saying in effect, “No, we are not alike, because you misinterpreted my performance.” Or, “Your perception is faulty.”  Or, “If you are like me, you are really a dummy, because any dolt could have done what I have.”

My dear friend Bruce Larson finally confronted me one day about squelching a compliment by saying, “Keith, you are a good giver of affirmation, but you’re a stingy receiver!”  It was clear to me in that moment that with all my apparent willingness, as a Christian, to love other people, I fail to love them when I refuse to hear their attempts to love me.  I suppose I reject their love because I’m afraid it is unreal, and I cannot risk being hurt—in case they do not mean it—or sometimes I evidently want to appear humble, if they do mean it.  So I protect myself from being hurt or from looking proud by dismissing as insignificant any attempts people make to say affirming things to me.  Never before had I realized fully the negative, squelching effect of refusing to accept another’s kind word.

Since making these discoveries, I am going to try to look people in the eye and say simply and warmly, “Thank you,” if they try to say something positive to me.  At a deep level I know that anything worthwhile I have is from God.  And somehow, by letting people express positive feelings to me through a handshake and a few words, I think something is completed in the attempt to communicate the love of God in human terms.

“Words and magic were in the beginning one and the same thing, and even today words retain much of their magical power.  By words one of us can give to another the greatest happiness or bring about utter despair. . . . Words call forth emotions and are universally the means by which we influence our fellow creatures.  Therefore let us not despise the use of words. . . .”

Sigmund Freud

A General Introduction to Psychoanalysis[1]

Thank you, God, that You are willing to receive my stumbling and often half-sincere attempts to praise You.  Since You showed us in Christ that it is important for us to be able to receive, please give me the grace I need to do so.  I am grateful that You take these praises of mine seriously rather than rejecting me with a denial or a joke, which would leave me alone and sorry I tried.  Help me to learn how to love.  But, O Lord, give me the serenity to risk receiving from other people . . . love, which I fear may not be real.

It is hard to receive:

Peter said to him, “You shall never wash my feet.”  Jesus answered him, “If I do not wash you, you have no part in me.”  Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!”

John 13:8, 9


[1] Sigmund Freud, A General Introduction to Psychoanalysis (New York: Washington Square Press), 22.

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