This Is How Love Wins

Well, as impossible as it seems to me, last month I became the parent of a kindergarten graduate.  Today I uploaded the pictures from his last day of school onto our computer, and they were full of sweet memories. 

The kids and I met him at the bus stop that afternoon with balloons, bubbles and icecream cake to celebrate his accomplishment.  We sat together on the front porch, eating our cake, blowing our bubbles, with endless smiles and contagious giggles.  I couldn't help but think to myself that this was one of those precious moments in motherhood that would be permanently etched in my mind, cherished until the day I die. 

And as we sat together laughing and eating our cake, it hit me like a bombshell, out of nowhere, and it literally made me catch my breath.  It was a pang of sorrow for so many parents who would never have the chance to celebrate this last day of school with their child.  So many parents who would give anything to watch their child step off the school bus, grinning from ear to ear, brimming with the excitement of putting one year behind them and simultaneously looking forward to the next.  So many parents who were unjustly robbed of this cherished moment.  And I suddenly found myself working hard to suppress the tears that welled in my eyes.

Throughout recent years, and especially on the heels of tragedies like the Boston Marathon bombing and the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting, I've cried many tears, brokenhearted for the parents who have lost children in senseless terrorist acts.  I'm certain they swim in grief beyond anything I can even begin to fathom, all the while clinging desperately to fading memories of their precious little one.  First smiles.  First words.  First steps.  First day of school.

Last smiles.  Last hugs.  Last words.

And I think, There could never be any greater enemy than the one who killed my child.  The one whose selfish ambitions, ignorance and hatred caused my child to fear, to hurt, and ultimately to die.  This is a person I could never love.  This is a person I could never forgive.

Amazingly, I know a father who not only watched his son suffer an agonizing death at the hands of vengeful fools, but this same father responded by offering total forgiveness to those responsible, waiting patiently for them to acknowledge their need for forgiveness and to accept it free of charge.  He even went a step further and welcomed these same offenders into his family.  Enemies of the greatest magnitude.  Now affectionately called his own sons, complete with both title and inheritance.  Vengeance assuaged by mercy.  Guilt absolved by forgiveness.  Hatred overcome with love.  Love undoubtedly won.

Of course, this was no ordinary father.  This was the Father.  The very source of love.  And of course,  this was no ordinary son.  It was the Son.  The very portrait of innocence, the likes of which no man or child could match.

And of course, we are no terrorists.  But maybe, just maybe, if we could acknowledge that we ourselves were once His enemies (Romans 5:10), we might begin to comprehend the extent of His love and forgiveness, the depth to which He reached to pull us from the pit to offer us redemption.  Not because of us, His enemies.  Blackened with the sin that called out for His Son's death.  No, not because of us, but because of Him.

And as we seek to grasp the magnitude of His incomprehensible grace, we're overwhelmed with a reverence so extraordinary that it propels us to obedience.  And it stands to reason that our obedience should begin with the commandments that He deemed most important: to love God and to love others (Matthew 22:36-40).  I think we can all agree that the first commandment is almost an instinctive response.  We genuinely desire to love the One who has given us unmerited grace.  But that second one...

I'll be the first to admit that I don't always love everyone.  Actually, if you ask my family, you'd discover that I often struggle to exercise love and grace towards those whom I actually want to love.  And in all reality, there are loads of individuals out there who don't deserve my love at all, at least not by the world's standard.  But unfortunately for me, I wasn't called to live by the world's standard; I'm called to follow Christ.  And when Christ told us to love others, He omitted the clause which gives me permission to deny love to those whom I deem undeserving.

I'll be honest here.  I've been chewing on this for a while, and it's hard to swallow, and all the more to digest.  But I know without a shadow of a doubt that if anything is going to grab the attention of a sinful world and direct them to the Savior that wants so desperately to receive them, it's going to be love.  It won't be my decided remarks on the unarguable corruption of politicians, or my pride in adhering to conservative doctrine and political policies.   It won't be my bold and brazen proclamation on how far our nation has deviated from scripture.  It won't be my frequent expressions of offense, shock and disgust at cable TV's audacity to idealize unbiblical practices.  And while it is irrefutable that we live in a society saturated with sin, and indeed any true follower of God should be utterly broken over the ease with which our nation has so comfortably wandered this far from biblical truth, it won't be tasteless words dripping with disdain and self-righteousness that bring this sinful society to Christ.  If we want this world to see Christ, then let's start by exemplifying the supernatural love that defined Him.  Let everything we say and do, be done in love.  Because that's how we point to Him.  Because that's how love wins.

It's love when I really, really want to fume.  Love when I've had enough.  Love when I don't feel that they deserve it.  And it's love when they really don't deserve it.  Because, hey, I didn't deserve it either.  But thank God He doesn't give me what I deserve.