Love

Our pastor preached a sermon yesterday on Love – shocked? Me either! It was what I needed to hear. I thought about mentally checking out – especially when he lead us to 1 Corinthians 13. How many love sermons had I heard on 1 Corinthians 13? No telling.

When he began describing what love is – my heart sank. I mean I want to love but really – one would not describe me using the words of 1 Corinthians 13, “patient, kind, is not rude, does not insist on its own way.” I mean, really, must I go on?

Last week, Jackson got croup in the middle of the night and we had to visit the doctor early the next morning. At the doctor, my favorite nurse practitioner told me in code that Jackson needed a shot. I hesitated telling him. Why? The dread and fear of shots is much worse for him then the shot. Inevitable the nurse walked in and Jackson’s eyes shot up when I told him to get on the table. “Why?” he asked in total fear. We have to get a shot, honey, so you can breathe tonight. Now, he couldn’t care less if he could breathe tonight – reasoning with a child about to get a shot is impossible. So I wrestled to the table and literally had to hold him down while he screamed “it’s going to hurt” over and over. At some point, I lost my grip and he saw the shot. Then he started screaming for his dad – who was at work, mind you. The nurse and I finally held him down long enough to get the shot which as soon as she gave it to him he jumped off the table and was ready to get out of there. The thought of the shot was much worse than the shot. That whole lesson is a post for another day. It reminds me of grief and holidays – the thought of the holiday is usually worse than the actual day.

I digress.

After the doctor debacle, we headed to Target for a prize. We get prized here when we get a shot – regardless of how brave. I had so many stitches and shots and surgeries growing up that I think a doctor visit that includes pain deserves a prize. Good parenting, I know. Plus, Target has a Starbucks and I was whipped. (Whipped is my siste’rs word for when life just wears us out.)

I digress again.

Here is my point. On the way to Target Jackson asked me if “we were in a hurry at Target” or could he REALLY look around?  My heart stopped, I teared up a bit. Why? I think I am always in a hurry, always on the move, productive, ready to tackle the next thing. My baby was asking me, gearing that little heart up for what was in store for him, could he relax and look at toys or was I in a hurry?

Sunday, our pastor, when describing 1 Corinthians 13 said, “love never gets in a hurry.” Of course I thought, never? Really? I began looking up the greek definition right there in church (logos now has an iphone app and I can do that) and God stopped me. Forget digging deeper for the real meaning and ask yourself, “is your love in a hurry?” Yes.

I have way more to say – our small group going through the book “A Quest For More” dug even deeper into how we live our lives here and how “the mundane things as wardrobe, menu, schedule, workload, traffic, weather, being right (YIKES), getting affirmed, money, housing, employment, gardens, family rooms, sex, leisure, who’s in the bathroom first, who did what with my _______, who ate the last of the cereal, etc. – all of which are important in some way – rise to a spiritually dangerous level of importance in the heat of the moment (getting through Target in record time). These are the moments we live in every day. The normal day is a 24-hour collection of little moments. Day after day, week after week, and year after year, these little moments set the character of a person’s life. When little things become the big thing for which I consistently fight. I have forsaken transcendence (superior godly -living) for the temporary shadow glories of creation.”

But, I promised Jackson I would read him a book.


Advertisements

3 thoughts on “Love

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s