I just wrote this email to a friend:
I don't want to come to understand and experience love after trying every other option. I want to cultivate love for others sooner rather than later. I want to love and be loved (I think you cannot fully have one without the other) wholeheartedly, in the light of day.
Isn't it both terrifying and beautifully compelling?
And how do we do this?
Who has thoughts? Let's share them!
There is a song by Gungor called "Late Have I Loved You" - do you know it/them? I've been a fan for several years.I recently discovered (via Dan's Lenten guide), that the lyrics of this song were originally written by St. Augustine. As I listened to this song, and thought about Augustine's words, I was struck by the opening line. What does it mean to "love late?" I sat with this question for awhile, and then wrote a poem:“Late have I loved you.”
Late have I come to see
and know what love is.
I have tried to control,
tried to use
tried to prove
and tried to know.
It is only after failing
at each of these
that I have loved you.
When I think about our conversation this afternoon, the question I think we both need to ask ourselves is, "What does it look like to love this person?" Not to control them or use them or know them intellectually, but to love them, as they are, as we are.
I don't want to come to understand and experience love after trying every other option. I want to cultivate love for others sooner rather than later. I want to love and be loved (I think you cannot fully have one without the other) wholeheartedly, in the light of day.
Isn't it both terrifying and beautifully compelling?
And how do we do this?
Who has thoughts? Let's share them!
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