On Finding Love for People

Inspired by an article in the Christian Century many years ago, I found this reflection on loving people to be a good engagement for Lent.  It touches on what it means to be in community, to be the priesthood of all believers and to allow God to widen our hearts beyond our own comfort. It also addresses the themes and challenges we are addressing at the regional Episcopal Diocesan Convention.

First, each and every one of us must decide that the people of his or her congregation truly matter—that they are worth the personal energy expended on their behalf. This is more than putting up with people who consider the church their second home. It asks for the gift of compassion and a keenly observant eye for noticing. Just as a sailor reads the wind or a surfer reads the surf, we must be willing to read the contours of individual lives within a congregation. 

We might ask ourselves, for example, "Am I interested in the complications that go with the daily routines of these people in my circle of life? Do I really want to get to know them in more than a superficial way? Can I imagine the very different worlds they inhabit and tune into those worlds when I'm with them? Am I willing to care personally for them in the midst of all that might preoccupy their minds, worry their hearts or delight their souls?" If we can answer these questions in the affirmative then we are on the road to a meaningful partnership in ministry. In loving others we do not merely give of ourselves; we also receive energy and insight for living our own lives more fully. 

Second, we need to love people as they are, not as we wish they were. None of this "if only" stuff in community life. "If only she would buy into the strategic plan." "If only he would open his wallet more freely." Conditional love is not biblical love. Toleration of another is not the warmth of affection. If the ministry of a church is alive and vibrant, the members within it will always be in the process of becoming more than they presently are. This is its own delight. Those who enjoy a loving identification with their people will find themselves putting the joys and interests of these people ahead of their own. Everyone comes out on top when there is this "priority for the other." It sounds rather Jesus-like, come to think of it.

Third, we should not confuse the gift of interpersonal skills or fellowship with having a Godly heart for people. Fellowship is fun, but it is no substitute for the reverence that goes with casting one's lot among this strange menagerie of people called a congregation. The art of embracing other people, including individuals very much unlike ourselves, cannot be reduced to any singular event. It is part of one's character, formed by the grace of God's love and molded through daily prayer.

Fourth, love is its own reward. It is not a means to an end. Love must never be exercised to get somebody to do something. We need to see people for the depth of their humanity, for the colorful surprise that God has tucked into their breath, and not for their perceived value to the church's ministry or to us personally. 

Fifth, love grows in depth over time. Just as those in a marriage enrich the texture of their togetherness with each new experience of their shared life, so we in the church discover the full meaning of our love for one another only over the course of time. If I say, "I love you," to another human being, I cannot really say this in a way that suggests I've perfected that love. Rather, the words remind both of us that there is yet more love to be discovered through our precious bond.

Finally, cherishing the people of a congregation requires a deep inner desire if it is to be a priority. Loving a body of people does not happen automatically or mechanically. There may be many days when one feels little love. We cannot order an emotion anymore than we can learn one from a textbook. 

So what do we do? The best forms of love are always driven by a thirst or a longing to know and care about another human being. Where our soul may not feel a longing for God or for other people, there is always another option. We can "desire the desire" or, as Meister Eckhart once put it, "long for the longing." 

Every congregation must find a relational path through challenge and hardship, through exhilaration and meaning. A certain complexity seems to accompany every love. 

Can we come to such an engagement, commitment, and sense of communal love this Lent?