Love feeds love

On Monday I discussed Trevor Nunn's version of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night and how love, when bestowed, opens people up. Love has the startling power to draw people out of themselves, out of their woes and worries, out of their hang-ups. It is a wonder.

As Spring begins to burn hot, as the school year begins to wind down, as anticipation of graduation swells in hopeful chests, I still see many students with downcast or anxious eyes. Sure, some of the problem is apathy or the so-called "senioritis" (as I've discussed over the last couple of weeks); but much of what is going on in my students and in myself is a growing sense of urgency--for whatever reason. Many here at school are walking the halls, wrestling our way through classes and days and homework (when they do it) , trying to just make it by. All the students are racing toward summer. The seniors are racing toward their mini-consumation--GRADUATION. Their all racing in the same direction, toward similar goals... and yet... there's somehow a hollowness in the midst of all the anticipation.

I don't know the direct cause of the blank or wandering, focus-less gazes I see. I DO know that many of these floundering students need encouragement. Reminders. A gentle push.

Love.
~~~*~~~

At the end of this day and all the struggles these teenagers feel--that I feel as a teacher and parent--all of us need feeding and the food we need is love. I know this may sound like a spectacularly obvious assessment, but I see so many of us who call ourselves educators, parents, friends miss this point. Rather than seeking to feed this need for love (and all that love carries along with it), we sometimes have that tendency to withdraw from the students or worse, we follow them into their hazy, hungry state and neglect to be fed ourselves so that we might, in turn, be feeders.

Love feeds love. We need to be fed with love and support--from colleagues, friends, family, students, speakers, authors, etc.--so that we can feed.

It's spring. Go find invigoration, go find, learning, go find love. You might have to try hard to do this, especially if you're weary with the work set before us. DO IT! It's worth the labor, for you and for those in your charge.

Don't join the hollow stare. Fill it.

"Love feeds love and I believe that
love bleeds when it doesn't get enough." ~Wayne Kirkpatrick

Love draws out love

Believing that the masquerading Viola is a young man in Trevor Nunn's film adaptation of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night is a bit of a stretch. Still, that aside, her character in the play demonstrates a very important aspect of the powerful affects of love on both the lover and the loved.

She poses as a man so she might serve in Duke Orsino's court. He is pining away for the Countess Olivia, who will have none of his wooing affections. The Duke gets the happy idea that his new page, Cesario (who, unbeknownst to him is really Viola dressed in man's garb), might be able to go to Olivia's court, present the Duke's plea of love, and win over the lady with his (her) youth.

The idea is a long shot, considering Viola has sworn she will see no man for seven years because she needs to mourne the loss of her brother. She is closed up within herself. Enter Viola disguised as Cesario. She enters Lady Olivia's dark drawing room (well, it's dark in director Trevor Nunn's film version of the play) and soon persuades Olivia to lift her veil. Likewise, she draws back the curtains, letting the sun's startling light fill the room. To top it all off, Cesario and Olivia go out the door, into the open, airy gardens of Olivia's manor.

Just a story? Maybe. But what Trevor Nunn has captured of Shakespeare's vision is this: when a lover bestows affections, gifts, or even unflinchingly honest words (as Viola does), the loved person is opened up, just as Olivia's veil, curtain and parlor door are opened in the film. They are opened up and drawn out of themselves. And that, indeed, is a happy hope for those of us shut in or shut down or shut up.

One Sentence

Jesus' demand that we love him may involve MORE than deep feelings of admiration for his attributes and enjoyment of his fellowship and attraction to his presence and affection for his kingship, but it does not involve LESS. ~ John Piler

One Sentence

For Jacki...

"When our two hands are linked together with an ampersand,
It's my kind of diagram." ~ Jason Mraz

All love is sacrifice

If you love somebody, really love them, you're going to lose something.

It's a fact, one that we don't take into consideration too often when we enter into community of just about any kind. If you love a person, you might hurt or be hurt, give burdens or take on burdens (inadvertantly or advertantly). It comes with the territory of attempting to love in a world that needs love because it is in the process of being redeemed and restored.

In one of his more recent books, King's Cross, Timothy Keller puts this principle into crystal clarity (click the cover to see a "trailer" he did for the book, click the title above to check the book out on Amazon). He says, "It bears repeating: All love, all real, life-changing love, is substitutionary sacrifice. You have never loved a broken person, you have never loved a guilty person, you have never loved a hurting person except through substitutionary sacrifice."

I read this and thought, "Yeah, I guess that's right," but I didn't really grasp it--probably because I tend to love in a transactional way, as I've mentioned here on several occassions.

Then Keller gave a concrete example and I realized he confirmed what I've come to suspect: love is sacrifice.

He says, "Say you're one of the cool kids in high school, and there's a classmate who is considered geeky. Nobody likes her; she's isolated and alienated. You try to reach out and be her friend. The next thing you know, the other cool kids are coming to you and saying, 'What are you doing with her?' What's happening is, some of that geekiness is rubbing off on you. You're not so cool anymore if you hang out with her. There is no way for you to diminish her isolation without entering into it, without some of it falling on you."

Can you relate to this? As I teacher, I read this and immediately several students came to mind. I teach at a school that only has about 200 high school students; on the thin surface, it appears that most everyone is welcome and accepted. But it's just not the case. We have boarding students from China and South Korea who have had a difficult time mixing in with the American students. If they didn't have each other, they would be alone. And, of course, we have a few American students who are "on the outside." They are alone.

All of these students need love, the kind that takes on their difference and thus their isolation. The kind that sacrifices something. The kind that costs.

Oh, let's be honest: We all need it.

This is why Jesus came. It's plain and obvious when I say it like that, but I need to go further: He came so we could become the kind of people that love and sacrifice and take on the hurt, or guilt, or shame, or anathama of those around us--especially that of those called by his name.

Jesus loved in this manner; we are called to do the same.

~~~

Have you seen this kind of love in action? Felt it? Lived it? Let me know... let yourself know.

Also, pick up Keller's book King's Cross if you get the chance; it is sure to refresh, restore, or re-awaken your vision if you do.

Of weddings and symbolic acts

"Oh, I dread going to weddings," said a friend of mine this morning when I told him I was going to a wedding tonight in Dallas.

Not his thing. I explained that this was the wedding of a former student, a student I had coached, a student who has shown great kindness to my children, a student whose parents have befriended my wife and me and blessed us beyond what I understand or know. He ribbed me for going to the wedding for any of these reasons, as if I were going out of some sense of duty or obligation.

But it wasn't this. Jenna was one of my favorite students, one of my favorite players. She has grown into a remarkable young woman. I respect and admire her great character and her zeal for Christ, his people and his kingdom.  No, I don't know Blake--the future husband-to-be--very well, but he is currently a colleague of mine and the more I'm around him, the more I like him. In truth, I'm honored that she and Blake and their families would invite my family and me to be their guests at their great wedding celebration. Why wouldn't I go?

Not Your Ordinary Wedding Ceremony

The wedding started well, yet was fairly typical. Though this was the case, I will say the officiating pastor (a friend of mine and a former colleague) was fresh in his presentation of the gospel and the fact that God performed the first wedding ceremony in the Garden of Eden.  In addition, his friendship with the bride and her family made the ceremony personal.

But things didn't stay "typical"--at least for me--for very long. The pastor explained that Jenna and Blake were going to wash each other's feet as a sign of their future service to one another as husband and wife. 

To be honest, I squirmed as the maid of honor and the best man pulled up a chair and basin for this ceremonial act. I thought, "This is going to be awkward... for everyone."

This couldn't be further from the truth. Watching Blake bend down and work off Jenna's cowboy boots (YES! COWBOY BOOTS! Surprise to everyone, Blake included--yet he didn't show it); watching Blake gently take each of her feet into his hands; watching him wash away the sweat and, no doubt, the strain of the day, with a cloth; watching him work with dignity and honor and humility; watching him show a sincere heart of true love and desire to serve this woman--all this was remarkable.

Then it was Jenna's turn. Blake took a seat and Jenna got down on her knees and did the same for him. I really can't describe the scene, nor what I felt. I was floored, metaphorically (obviously), but I literally wanted to cry out in un-utterable wonder.

I did take the picture above, and perhaps it captures the emotion of the moment... but I'm not sure it does. I'm fairly certain I can't quite put into words the sense and feel of the sight. Seeing a groom demonstrate his love with all humility and dignity of service, seeing a bride kneel and take no concern for the propriety of her dress or her person... ah, this was truly one of the most amazing and wonderful things I've ever seen.

Indeed, watching this bride and groom serve each other in such a personal way turned out to be anything but awkward. How wrong I was. Spectacularly so. No. It was as if we as witnesses and congregation were participating in the service they rendered each other. It wasn't communion, for no food was consumed and no sacred words of rite spoken. But it WAS communal. Maybe that's the best word to describe the time: communal.

It was moving, and I mean that in much more than just the rapture in my chest as I watched it occur. I have little doubt that those of us in attendance, those of us really seeing what was being done and shown, are refreshed, renewed and likely changed. This, after all, what weddings and symbolic acts can do.

Love Draws Out

Believing that the masquerading Viola is a young man in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night is a bit of a stretch. Still, that aside, her character in the play demonstrates a very important aspect of the powerful affects of love on both the lover and the loved.

She poses as a man so she might serve in Duke Orsino's court. He is pining away for the Countess Olivia, who will have none of his wooing affections. The Duke gets the happy idea that his new page, Cesario (who, unbeknownst to him is really Viola dressed in man's garb), might be able to go to Olivia's court, present the Duke's plea of love, and win over the lady with his (her) youth.

The idea is a long shot, considering Viola has sworn she will see no man for seven years because she needs to mourne the loss of her brother. She is closed up within herself. Enter Viola disguised as Cesario. She enters Lady Olivia's dark drawing room (well, it's dark in director Trevor Nunn's film version of the film) and soon persuades Olivia to lift her veil. Likewise, she draws back the curtains, letting the sun's startling light fill the room. To top it all off, Cesario and Olivia go out the door, into the open, airy gardens of Olivia's manor.

Just a story? Maybe. But what Trevor Nunn has captured of Shakespeare's vision is this: when a lover bestows affections, gifts, or even unflinchingly honest words (as Viola does), the loved person is opened up, just as Olivia's veil, curtain and parlor door are opened in the film. They are opened up and drawn out of themselves. And that, indeed, is a happy hope for those of us shut in or shut down or shut up.