Everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.[…] for God is love. – 1 John 4:7-8
It’s cold and blowing in Iowa today. Really cold (-9° before the wind chill) and really windy (24 mph and climbing). While bundled up at home, I’ve been thinking about this fourth week of Advent—the week dedicated to Love—and the Christmas that follows so quickly on its tails. I missed worship last Sunday. I’d been feeling a little under the weather and we’re not taking any chances right now. So I’ve been lighting the Love Advent candle on my own this week.
The week before, however, I was grateful to the good folks of Capitol Hill Lutheran Church (led by the gifted Rev. Minna Bothwell) for giving voice to one of my favorite Advent hymns: People Look East. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s a lilting and uplifting song in three. The verses call the whole of creation—people, earth, stars in their heavenly spheres, all that is beyond our sight—to prepare in the ways that they are able for Love—the Guest, the Rose, the Star, the Lord—is on the way. I love those imaginative embodiments of Love. The reminders of how tangible and many-faceted it is.
A morning without worship or work or other plans made for lovely, spacious time for conversation with Lucas. Somehow, we got talking about faith. (I promise, I didn’t bring it up!) He would say that he admires my faith but doesn’t share it. And there are plenty of reasons the world over to question the caricatures of what passes for faith today. Especially when so many people and our planet itself are hurting. And when simple kindness, to say nothing of love, often seems in short supply. I, however, don’t think Lucas and I are that far apart. As he was describing to me what he doesn’t believe, my mind started formulating a picture of an old man in the clouds holding a complex version of the marauder’s map plotting and planning the life course for everyone on earth. It was easy to say, “I don’t believe that either.”
And then I said some version of this: I don’t believe in that kind of two-dimensional plan made by a puppeteer God. But I do know the presence of Love. An energy that runs within, among, and between us, and throughout the universe. A presence that didn’t have to be so. And so at its most basic, my faith is that of 1 John. God is Love. Love is the purpose, Love is the plan, and Love is the path we travel to get there. Our work is to make choices and live our lives in ways that help us align more closely to the path and purpose of Love.
To that, he responded: “That I can get behind.”
We’ve been working hard, in our marriage and in our home, to prepare room for more Love. That may seem obvious in a marriage, and when expecting a child, but it’s not always easy. We’re moving from the hypothetical, to the theoretical, to the potential, and in just a few months, the actual. Lots of choices and ongoing conversation and compromise are necessary. As my spiritual director said with a wry laugh recently: “Marriage is where we learn to love our enemies.” (!)
Once I started talking openly to some close friends about infertility, I started to actually feel the reality we were steeped in rather than numbing out and denying it. It was then that I realized we needed some help. There are so many complex emotions that get lodged in your most intimate moments with your partner in the months and years that gradually accrue in this process. Fear, anxiety, sadness, grief, and shame all creep in. Walls go up to guard hearts and to just get through all the other unrelated things that need to happen each day.
We were really lucky to find a couples’ counselor who specializes in infertility. Over the course of the past year or so, she has helped us both to listen more slowly and deeply to each other. To hear past the fear and anxiety and shame that come with infertility (and simply with trusting another human with your whole self) so we can speak and listen and live with more Love for each other. Align ourselves more fully to that path and purpose and plan.
And while I know it’s not Christmas yet, this is the last you’ll hear from me until the festivities have passed. Love will welcome the hoped for Christ light. I love the stories of the Christian faith that teach me that God’s Love for all creation is so strong that they come to be with us, in the flesh. To experience the vulnerability and choices and compromise we all wrestle with. To embody what it can look like to walk the path of Love with purpose and humility and joy. Jesus worked hard among carpenters and fisherman and ate and drank with the “wrong” crowd. He honored and learned from women, healed the sick, offered forgiveness to those trapped in cycles of shame, and restored people to community. The stories of his life and teaching, starting with his vulnerable birth in a stable, populate my imagination with what it can look like to follow in the path of Love. I am so grateful for these many earthy images of what Love looks like with skin on, come down to be with us.
In 1885, poet Christina Rosetti published these lines, which later came to be known as “Love Came Down at Christmas.”
Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, love divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and angels gave the sign.
[…]
Love shall be our token,
Love shall be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and to all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign.
I hope that however (or even whether) you keep Christmas, the truth that Love is the purpose and plan for your life resonates. And I pray that Love finds you today and through this season.
Much Love,
Lindsey
I think you married a remarkable man. Reminds me of James Carville and Mary Matalin, two journalists in opposite parties, yet they’ve found ways, like you & your husband, to have a happy marriage! Merry Christmas to you both and your message was perfect, Love IS the answer.
Merry Christmas to you and your family, Lindsey! Every time I read your posts, I feel inspired, loved, challenged, and in awe. You are (and have always been) such a remarkable person. My prayers continue for your growing family during this holiday season and beyond.