IS LOVE REALLY A VERB? [W, 7-1-20]

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Days of Winter

IS LOVE REALLY A VERB?  [W, 7-1-20]

It is 8 o’clock and I have finished everything on my list for today. 8 o’clock in the morning!

I did last night’s dishes. I made coffee, and drank it. I prayed and read the Bible and sang my morning songs. I wrote a poem. I did the garbage and recycling. I walked an hour, in only 45 minutes. I stretched. I read the newspaper, on line, and checked email, and checked Facebook, to see if I had any offers from Giant Equipment to buy Humvees and tanks. [I did.]

I grew up on a farm. I felt relieved if all the stuff on my list was done by 8 o’clock. 8 o’clock at night. Our house had no plumbing or central heating, so there was water to carry in, and out, and kindling to split, and coal to carry in, and ashes out. There were chickens to feed and eggs to gather. There were beans to hoe and black berries to pick. It was all day, every day.

Then I became a preacher. Again, I was relieved if all the stuff on my list was done by 8 o’clock. At night. There were sermons to prepare, letters to answer, telephone calls, visits to make in homes and hospitals and nursing homes, meetings, funerals, weddings, lots of people who needed to tell someone about their problems. It was all day, every day.

But, now, what do I do all day? I’m not just buttoned down, I’m locked down. No meetings to attend. No coffee houses open. Plenty of demonstrations, but I can’t go to them—I can’t stand up long enough, and I can’t take a chance on getting the virus. I live in a condo. No grass to mow. No gutters to clean. No children to chase off the lawn.

Granted, I could get up later, so the stuff on my list would last later into the day,  but my semi-colon wants me up at 5:00, and, besides, if I got up at 7:00, I wouldn’t be able to go to bed until 11:22 instead of my current 9:22, so the problem would remain—still 13 hours and 22 minutes to fill with… what?

Just two days ago I “preached” about how the purpose of each day is to love. [CIW for M, 6-29, A Quilt Named Love] What does that mean, though, when your day, each day, is done by 8 in the morning?

For years, I preached that love is a verb. Really? If love is what you do, how do you love when you have nothing to do?

Well, there are a couple of things, and also a different view.

First, I am trying to love by staying healthy. It would be hard on my family and friends if I get sick in this time when they can’t even come to see me. It would be hard on the already over-stressed health care system. Just staying healthy is a loving thing. I don’t go out in public much, but when I do, wearing a mask and physically distancing are loving things.

Extra time is an excellent opportunity for extra prayers for others. Yes, that brings up the whole discussion about the efficacy of intercessory prayer, but the one thing I know for sure about intercessory prayer is that I have to do it. It’s hard, though, at least for me, to stay focused in prayer for 13 hours and 22 minutes each day.

Here’s another way to see love. Maybe it’s more than just a verb. It’s always a verb, but maybe it’s also a conjunction?

Well, I’m over my word limit. I’ll let you figure that out.

John Robert McFarland