Divine Plagiarism

A scene from a much happier story comes to mind. It was not the scene that was happier, but the story. The scene was actually remarkably difficult but remarkably important. So I am sitting in a bathtub in a Ukrainian apartment with tears running down my face. Wrestling with God. Not like ‘bless me’ wrestling, more like ‘I don’t like how You run the universe’ wrestling.

Something stupid started it. I think N. wouldn’t invite me to sit next to her in church. Something little and dumb. But for some reason it ended up being important. It started to mean that ‘I wasn’t special to her. I was just some guy.’ It started to mean that I was mistaken to listen to my heart, that my heart wasn’t trustworthy, that I should have stayed safely alone and let my head kill my heart yet again so that I wouldn’t be hurt. So this was the argument with God: ‘I thought You told me to do this thing!’ ‘Why isn’t this working the way You said it would?’ ‘I finally find someone that I love, after all these years, I finally find a story that is mine, and You take it away!’ ‘Why are you taunting me, offering me my desires and then pulling it away?’ And so on.

Two hours I think it was, beating the air with fists, like Paul says. The storm raging, and the tempest coming out in my words. Until I have one thought: ‘God, I don’t care if she loves me. I love her.’ I shout it defiantly under my breath. But I am not defying Him… I defy my fears. And in a moment the storm is calmed. I feel Him answer: ‘That is the right answer. That is what you needed to learn.’ Half an hour later, I called her. We had a good conversation, and it turned out that the supposed snub that morning was nothing. And the story progressed from there.

I don’t think that there’s any chance that I can call now in this story and find out that it was all a misunderstanding. There was no misunderstanding C.‘s words. She wanted to wound me, wanted to scar me, wanted to hurt me. There was no innocent explanation. Her words were death and were intended to be so. Mine were not tremendously kind, as well. So I cannot chalk the whole thing up to a mis-communication. We communicated exactly what we intended, and we intended to hurt each other. I don’t like it, but that doesn’t do much to change it. But that does not change the truth I learned in that Ukrainian bathtub on the nature of love. Love is unconditional. Only its expression is reciprocal.

‘I love her. I don’t care what she thinks about me.’ I claim this. I do love her. I ask God to purify that love, so that it looks a little less like hatred. If hatred is love plus fear, than I ask Him to strip away my fears. They are actually justified, though, in the light of my own strength. She has the capacity and has shown the willingness to wound me deeply. It is prudent to fear such a thing. But perfect love casts out all fear. And God’s strength is infinite, as is His grace. He surely has given me more than my fair share. So in the light of His grace, there is no cause to fear. There is nothing that she can do to me that He cannot cover, that He cannot atone for, that He cannot make right. Therefore I will not fear.

And I don’t care what she thinks about me. I have a pretty good idea, based on our last conversation, if one could really call it that. She can hate me all she wants. She can call me whatever names she wants. She can poison our mutual acquaintanceships all she wants. She can do whatever she wants, it is between her and God. But I do not need her approval to love her. And I do not need her approval to pray blessings over her. So even if I choose to love her by not expressing that love in anything but prayer, I will love her nonetheless. God’s love for me was not reciprocal. My love for her will not be reciprocal. I have no expectation of return. My expression of that love, of course, must be reciprocal. Well, sort of. She has expressed hatred toward me. I will not return it. But as long as she chooses to leave things broken between us, I will respect her choice. Even if I think she’s wrong to do so.

Here’s the thing. What do I lose by loving her? Absolutely nothing. I am driven to the feet of the Cross to ask for a faith, hope and love that I do not have, and in the process I am filled with His love. This is a good thing. In the asking I find brokenness, a quality that had been absent from my walk for quite some time. What do I lose by hating her? Much. My heart turns to ice, I rebuild my defenses, I become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. I know. I’ve done it before. So I will love her. I do not expect it to ever be returned. But I hope that it will be.

Perhaps she would hate me for this. So be it. If this is something she views as worthy of hatred, then she needs my prayers more, not less. My prayer is unchanged. This is my heart. I will raise her up to You in my prayers every night. May You bind and cast out any deep fears, any temptations, any accusations in her life. Especially the ones I gave her. May You bless her greatly, and conform her into Your image, giving her grace and brokenness and healing and true strength. If this is not Your will, then take her from those hands, from my heart and from my desires. If this is Your will, then prepare her and prepare me so that we may honor each other. I will pray until You answer. This is Your story, however it ends. I will wait for You to write it.