“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief,
it grows perhaps the greater.”
J.R.R. Tolkien - The Fellowship of the Ring
I've had a hard time writing recently. In all honesty, I've had a hard time doing much of anything recently. It seems that all my energy is going toward daily tasks. I seem to only be able to focus on the thing immediately in front of me, and sometimes even that is too much. All the while I've been just trying to live my life as best I can.
I recently started some trauma-informed therapy, and it has brought a lot to the forefront of my consciousness. Namely, it has brought up my intense desire for love and acceptance. I have always operated under this desire, but have rarely named it for what it is. Now, I feel as if I see it everywhere I turn and it seems to color my every action.
It's strange to me, now that I'm growing to be so aware of this desire, to realize that I can't remember a time when I took for granted that I was loved and accepted. I can't think of a time when I haven't felt I needed to work for it - and it could easily be lost if I misstepped.
In recent years, my family has proven me wrong several times when I thought I would lose their love and acceptance. They've shown up in ways that were quiet and supportive. But I've come to view them as the exception to the rule that love must be earned.
Today in chapel, I realized that this "rule" that love is earned and easily taken away is not, in fact, real. Sure, that is probably the case for some relationships. I've had toxic relationships, romantic and otherwise, that were based on love being earned and revoked at the drop of a hat. But true, abiding love isn't like that. God's love isn't like that.
Miriam Elizabeth preached this morning for Pentecost and drew up a picture of the Feminine Spirit who has been present from the very beginning. This Spirit moved over the waters at the dawn of time. She led the people of Israel through the desert as a cloud by day and flame by night. She breathed into the dry bones of Ezekiel's vision. She entered Mary's heart and soul and body at her invitation to openly welcome the Christ. And at 9am some 2,000 years ago, She fired up a Jerusalem block party, rushing in on a wild wind and splitting flames of fire and inspiring words from languages all over the known world.
Miriam Elizabeth preached with a fire that felt reminiscent of that Pentecost flame so long ago. And in her closing words, after having painted this grand picture of the Spirit in time and history, she told us that she believes that same Spirit is still present with us today. Miriam Elizabeth feels Her during our silent prayer and reflection time after our intercessory prayers. "She is here with us," Miriam Elizabeth said. And I began to cry.
For so long I have so desired to be loved unconditionally and accepted simply for who I am. I have ached for it. To be known and to be loved not in spite of that knowledge but because of that knowledge. And hearing that the Spirit is with me, even now, when I feel most unlovable, broke me.
I left chapel to try to dry my face. I made it to the bathroom and I stood at the sink and prayed while my tears flowed. I admitted to God that I have seen Her Wild and Holy Spirit in others, but have rarely felt Her within my own self. I have felt, even with God, that I must work hard to be loved. I looked up at my tear-stained face in the bathroom mirror, and suddenly I saw myself with new eyes. I wasn't some lost and lonely kid reaching and grasping at love only to watch it sift through my fingers like sand. I was someone whole. I was... I am... loved. God loves me. Even now, typing that, I have tears in my eyes.
So, I suppose, this brings me to a crossroads. I feel certain that to live into this love-reality, I must, moment by moment, choose to walk down a new path. I can no longer operate under the guise that love is earned, because God knows I've given reason after reason to be left alone in my wayward paths. But the Spirit didn't make an exception for me. Even this broken mind and heart can be healed and made whole, not because of the work I put in and not because of the effort I make, but simply because I belong and abide in Her.
I know that this will be an uphill work for me. I've got 28 years under my belt believing that love is something to be earned. But, perhaps, as Tolkien wrote, even now, love grows the greater. Even now, when all seems lost in some moments and I feel the crushing weight of depression and I have more doubts than hope, even now love grows in my consciousness.
May the Holy Spirit bless and keep us all as we journey in love.
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