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.

Love and Death

"Death is our enemy, our last enemy." Love is Stronger than Death by Peter Kreeft

Death the stranger, death the friend, wait... death is all of us. Death is a mother, death is a lover...  Philosopher and author, Peter Kreeft will not allow his reader to loiter in Love is Stronger than Death. The topic for many is wholly unexamined, and yet at some time it will greet each and all. "Life is always fatal. No one gets out of it alive... It is a mysterious country...a bottomless pit... we have not unraveled her riddle...little chance we will." Kreeft writes in addition, that there is the meaning of life in the meaning of death. The empirical absolute of life is death. It is the backdrop, if you will, against which all of life plays out.

Death makes a life have either more or less meaning; it provokes some to be more mindful and others to become more and more forgetful. If death is meaningful "then life is startlingly more meaningful or startling less meaning-full than we usually think." Kreeft goes on to say that his book is about death, not about the feelings we may have towards death. He asks and examines questions about what is ultimately a reality, death, a measurable and empirical fact, like the sun rising and setting.

The 'democracy of the dead,' as C.K. Chesterton called it, refers to death as the great leveler, the one force in life that makes all equal. He asks what is the 'end of life?' Is it death? Can we know what the purpose of life is when faced with its 'death' shadow? How can it be like love, a desired end, the goal, a consummation? In the view of death, these terms seem strange, strange indeed. He, Kreeft, says we cannot begin to know why we die until we begin to know why we live. Knowing one's purpose in life sets the course for a whole host of other directions and priorities.

Death gives rise to questions about life after death. It forces the questions of the eternal, of God, of Bliss, of Nirvana and more. But first on to death as an enemy. It must be the enemy before we can recognize it as a possible friend. Many current, popular books on death teach confusion, in Kreeft's view. He says that, "denying, ignoring death, [it is] treated as a stranger...what this does is add to the denial of death."

He writes that as an enemy and yet the inevitable, somehow, we may come to befriend this one. But to say that it is merely natural, not to be overly played out is like the difference between tolerance and forgiveness. Forgiveness sees beyond the evil; it sees all the more. Tolerance refuses to acknowledge evil at all; therefore it is blinded. So instead of finding the way free of evil, tolerance is a block, a trap into evil. Thus the modern cycle of the enmity with death continues with tolerance.

Writing about the ways people consider death such as sleep, loss, or darkness, Kreeft writes we "find our selves at birth plunged into a madly rushing river", that flows towards a subterranean cave; within that cave, life co-exists. Between these two finite poles, we 'strut our stuff.' Always we fall in timeless direction. And finally he notes that "death is irreversible because time is irreversible... In fact time is another word for death."

And isn't death, like life, composed of both meetings and partings? we look forward to all the great and potential meetings in our life, despite the wistfulness  of departures. And so for the puzzle of it: we all rebel against this fact, eventual.  In a sort of lover's quarrel with the world, we diligently resist, rebel; railing against time. "Is that all there is?" We shout. But wait! There is joy, there is bliss. The religious and spiritual among us insist. The quest for meaning, for purpose, for love and friendship give to us what death will not.

There is a reason to live and a reason to die. Can modern society have fallen so far from the traditions that made these reasons clear? In Kreeft's view the answers and the results of our traditions, our ancient wisdom, in part, leads us back to the way of a rising heart of humanity, a rising to meet the One, the beloved. Death is then the friend.