Saturday, November 2, 2013

Loss of Love

"It was a five month affair," she said to me.

"It was devastating.  I had never been in love before - not like that.  I had placed all my trust in him, had started to become vulnerable around him.

"The vulnerability seemed to bother him.  He ended it suddenly, brutally.  He didn't like the mess he had made, and he had to get out.  So he got out - in a blink.

"Something like that makes you question your judgment.  You look back over the whole relationship and ask yourself, 'Why didn't I see this in him?  How could I have misread him as much as I did?  How could I have ever convinced myself he cared for me, when the way he left me showed without a doubt that he never really did.'"

"There is the Eros," I said, and not merely to put a spin on it.  "The truth of the love that springs forth from us, even if it is not valued, even if it is trashed or treated with contempt - that truth and that love means something, even when we're played for the fools we are."

I knew exactly what she was talking about.  It was a conversation neither of us expected to have, but it came up at a time of some significance for me.

How do we love the life God has given us, the people He has placed in our care?

In my play The Call, the main character cries out ...

You don’t understand!  I can’t love!  It hurts too much, hurts like writing the great poem that only suffering can produce.  And I can not endure that  suffering – or the sweetness of that poem.  It tears out the core of my being!  I can’t live that way!  I can’t love God.  That would take me past the breaking point.  And I’m already broke!  I can’t even love the trees, the birds, the sunshine.  Good gravy, woman, I can’t even love you!

There is more pain in love than we admit.  Songs are sung and movies are made and books are written that tell the old old story, but hearts continue to be broken daily and the depth of that pain can not be spoken.

The only thing that comes close to articulating it - to showing the tragic sorrow of being called to love in a world that treats love with contempt - is the Cross.

For He is love.  And when we saw that, we killed Him.

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