Love, Revised

"When we look through the eyes of Jesus, we see new things in people. In the murderers, we see our own hatred. In the addicts, we see our own addictions. In the saints, we catch glimpses of our own holiness. We can see our own brokenness, our own violence, our own ability to destroy, and we can see our own sacredness, our own capacity to love and forgive. When we realize that we are both wretched and beautiful, we are freed up to see others the same way."

--Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution

Love. 

No, I'm not talking about the sappy, cloying, saccharine kind of love that drips from the lyrics of countless sonnets, poems, and songs throughout the ages. I'm talking about the kind of love that bleeds. The kind of love that sacrifices. The kind of love that weeps, the kind that bears so much compassion that it causes one to see other people for who they truly are. This is the kind of love that Jesus talks about throughout the gospels, reminding the apostles that "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends" (John 15:13).

Our world has split into this disgusting notion of us vs. them. This notion inhibits us from truly loving our neighbor, from really loving them for all that they are: human beings full of flaws and imperfections that blend beautifully to reflect the image of God. It's so sad how often we forget that our neighbor (not just physically--even our neighbors across the sea, even the people we perceive as our enemies) bears the image of God, just as we do, just as Adam and Eve did, just as our soldiers do, just as the person who wronged us does, just as the homeless man or woman who is huddled, invisible on the concrete does. How often we, myself included, all forget that. 

What if we, as human beings, as Christians, as citizens of humanity, actually started to see our neighbors as someone to really, deeply, and compassionately love with every fiber of our beings, no matter what it looks like or how difficult it is? As Jamie Torkowski so aptly said: "Our job is to love people. When it hurts. When it's uncool and embarrassing. Our job is to stand together, to carry the burdens of one another and to meet each other in our questions."

This, I feel, is what is at the heart of Shane Claiborne's book, The Irresistible Revolution. He touches on numerous other--and very significant--topics, but this, I feel, is the most important. It's rare that a book really makes me stop and reexamine my life and what I value. In all actuality, with all of the books I've read in my short lifetime, I don't think any book has ever really done that. Claiborne has made me uncomfortable and made me aware of my actions and my decisions. He has made me aware that all of my decisions bear consequences, whether it affects me directly or someone else indirectly. Furthermore, I am reminded that the moment I decided to be a Christian, I promised my life and existence to someone, something else. 

There are so many things I could reflect on (and need to reflect on) after reading The Irresistible Revolution, but the thought process could potentially fill its own book. (Narrowing down this post to a few hundred words has been a challenge--I have numerous pages of notes, thoughts, and quotes scribbled all over the place.) I encourage, no, implore you, dear reader, to read this amazing book. No, you might not agree with everything he says, but it will challenge you and your faith in ways you could never imagine. (Well, I at least never imagined.) These few words barely scratch the surface on my thoughts and reactions to Shane's words, but I encourage you to read it for yourself and make what you will of it. (Isn't the freedom of reading beautiful?)

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful, I know that full well."

--Psalm 139:13-14

After reading, I had so many ideas, thoughts, and reactions I wanted to share with the blogosphere, but it immediately became apparent that it would turn into a collection of essays in and of itself, so if you have any questions, are curious, or disagree with me (as it is entirely possible, and I welcome it), feel free to e-mail me, comment, or whatever your heart desires.