One of the aspects of convent life I most enjoy is getting to listen to Scripture being read aloud so often. We have lessons read every day, each time we are in chapel. Matins, Eucharist, Diurnum, Vespers, Compline.... At least once, sometimes twice per service, we get to hear stories and sermons, letters and poetry, all the many literary genres of the Bible.
This past week, a Gospel text I have read many a time (and I think I may have actually written a sermon on at some point) was read. Despite my familiarity with the passage, actually hearing it rather than just passing my eyes over text on a page, I was given reason to pause.
Jesus spoke to the disciples. "Who do you say that I am?"
I heard those words, spoken softly and with sincerity. A simple question, begging an honest answer. And even though it was a story of Jesus and the disciples from so long ago, I felt that Jesus was standing before me asking again with renewed interest.
"Kaitlyn, who do you say that I am?"
My mind sputtered. I scrambled for coherent thoughts as I searched for a way to tell Jesus who he is to me. I pulled out the file folders of my undergraduate and seminary studies in the recesses of my mind and flipped through them, working my way through descriptions and good theological terms. I considered the weight of Incarnation, the gravity of a selfless death, the eschatological hope of resurrection. And as my mind whirred into overdrive thinking through all these ways of describing Jesus, I couldn't help but picture him standing before me. Eyes patiently taking me in. Waiting for my answer.
And I knew. My good theological terms weren't enough.
Finally, in the silence, a singular answer rose to my consciousness. "Jesus, you are Love. Simply and marvelously, you are my Love."
This may not seem like an earth-shattering realization for you. It's not that ground-breaking, after all. But for some reason, in the quiet of that chapel, as my answer started sinking in, I grew to realize that I meant it. Every word. And I closed my eyes, picturing Jesus once more.
"My Love."
As the sincerity of my answer reached its zenith in my heart, I could see in my mind the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of Jesus' lips.
As a little girl I dreamed of finding my one, true Love. I dreamed of falling hopelessly head over heels for someone and spending all the rest of my life with them. That dream evolved as I got older, but the concept of a "true Love" never waned. I had this aching desire to share the uttermost parts of myself and to know I was sharing in uttermost parts of another.
I believed I had found that in my ex. I felt I had found true love. But to my surprise and dismay, he left me. And in that rejection and abandonment, the questions rolled. If that was true love, did I miss my shot? What if I never loved again? What if I never "got over" this? If this had been true, would that make any future relationship a shaky shadow of the true love I missed out on?
All those questions suddenly came back to me as I sat in the chapel and looked into Jesus' eyes. And I realized something rather extraordinary. Growing up I dreamed of "True Love" in a purely romantic sense. I wanted the butterflies and the warm, fuzzy feelings. But, now, I'm realizing that was too small of a view of what "True Love" can be.
There's no doubt in my mind that I loved my ex. But what I'm coming to realize is that the love he and I shared was not the true love to which every other relationship had to live up. Our relationship, as beautiful and marvelous and special as it was, was actually a shadow of a Truer Love.
Jesus is Love. And, spectacularly, Jesus is my Love. There is a true-ness to Jesus and his love for me that supersedes all other loves. True Love is so big that it cannot be described purely by romance. Romantic love is special, but even it is merely a shadow of something deeper, something all-consuming.
It's taken me a full week to process this revelation and to consider the full weight of Jesus' question and my answer. I'm convinced that this will be an ongoing discovery, a continual shedding of light on what has so long been in darkness. My prayer is that I learn more with each passing day how to open my heart up to the Truest Love there is, and that I will learn what it means to love in return just as fervently.
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