Bold Love and Evil

"If Christ, for one had practiced the love we advocate these days, he would have lived to a ripe old age."

In his classic book, Bold Love, psychologist and minister, Dan Allender writes compellingly of the face of evil in a world that is all things, not all love. He says, "We've come to view love as being nice. Forgiving and forgetting. Yielding to the desires of others. Yet the kind of love modeled by Jesus Christ, Ghandi, Martin Luther King and others has nothing to do with manners or unconditional acceptance. Rather, it is shrewd. Disruptive. Courageous. And as a result, often socially unacceptable."
Bold love is a harsh mistress, because there's nothing redeeming about a love that just blindly accepts.

What does it mean to love those who harm me? What does it mean, to love my enemy? The love of my friend is not so difficult. This story ultimately is about a forgiving love in a world side by side with the evil of the devil. Allender says that forgiveness surely does not mean forgetting the past, and ignoring the damage of harms past and present. Doing this would be erasure of one's personal history in the midst of a life. Human beings have been created lives worthy of love and forgiveness. We must first learn to forgive ourselves of the fault and failings that we have perpetrated. We must accept our humanness, our sometimes incomprehensible oddities and weaknesses.

"Bold love is a powerful agent of change that can transform both the lover and the beloved." The passion of bold love is a gift that brings a hardened heart face to face with a redemptive tenderness, and love of a Creator for his creation. We have all heard so much about God's love that his wrath and fury at our hardness and iniquity have been plowed under. There is no understanding of the Gospel message nor the centrality of the cross. Without recognition of the cross, its meaning and intersection of both, wrath and mercy are lost. It is a cross.

Mercy and its mysteries are great. Is it possible that we may be both passionately furious, and disposed to the doing of good?
Like the biblical figures Job and Jacob, we have the privilege to struggle with our failings, with God, and know that we will not be destroyed. Someone has been to the cross and shown us that. We are not to be in exile, nor a stranger to the promises of God. Not to be stripped naked and shamed, even in our darkest rage and most insolent self-justification, the face of God is there for the viewing. We may see his face and live.

The apostle Paul writes,  'For if we were God's enemies, we were reconciled with him through the death of his son.' Romans 5:8-10
"In his book, The Crucified God, Jurgen Moltmann expressed the loss for the Father and for the Son in this way: 'The Son suffers the dying; the Father suffers the death of the Son.
 The grief of the Father here is just as important as the death of the Son. The Fatherlessness of the Son is matched by the Sonlessness of the Father."

Allender writes, "Love is [now] before me, like a wall, like a deep cut on my hand. It is unforgettable; it is inflamed within me; it is a shrill, silent, noisy, still voice that captures my deepest and my most superficial thoughts." I am saved because he is mine and I am his. I am the deepest secret of God's heart.

Bids For Connection

Trying to hammer our points home, we try and try. Is part of the puzzle the way in which our words are used? Are we received in a way that feels genuine-- after all, mostly, we have a few simple wants at the end of each day. There is a longing for connection, to be felt, to be heard, to be seen, each of which is to be loved. To be loved more for who we are than what it is we do. Each of our lives has its own inherent dignity. How are we treating each other in any given moment?

Writer and thinker, John Gottman refers to these moments as bids for connection. And he says they are as much physical as they are spiritual. We want the one we are speaking to to turn and to listen to us, but we also want their heart to receive and consider our words. For it is deep within that our lives are in part made; while a first attempt may reduce the tension level, it doesn't always lead to the genuine heartfelt connection we often seek.
 Feeling safety in the prospect of vulnerability is possibly core to the ways of genuine spiritual connection with our self first and then others. Writing in his book, The Science of Trust, Gottman says "we can define the very nature of trust as having our partners best interests at heart, rather than just self-interest. Trust is the opposite of a zero sum game." Or perhaps another view is, that I can trust you to be as you are in any given place at any given time.

When we at first react to others, sometimes it's in 'wounded' mode so we can't really receive their message due to our perceived need to hang on tightly to our sense of effrontery or insult to our dignity.
And talk is cheap. We often, unconsciously even, regard others by what they do moreover than by what they say. And then no one wants to be the first to 'give in.' Finding the courage to be the one to make the first move, to overcome the very human reluctance to level, to be neither better nor worse than any other, can be scary.

 There are always risks to our daily interactions, and keeping in mind that love involves both giving and receiving, finding the courage to take the risk, to make the move is actually a very sacred gift to oneself as much as to others. These two essential elements, giving and receiving are the building blocks of the loving connections that we so often seek.
In bidding for connection, one may discover something that feels a whole lot better than fighting, and that together you are capable of producing something that's so much better after all.