Skip to main content

Are You Loved or Put Up With?

     When I choose to tolerate you, I have already drawn an imaginary line between us that constantly moves depending on how much I can "put up with" that day.  When I choose  to love you, that line becomes a ruler that's measured against the height, width and depth of the love that God has for me.  The more I appreciate what it took for God's grace to love me, the more I am compelled to share this love with people of whom I have nothing in common.  You don't have to earn my approval to receive my love.  Let's disagree and debate under the umbrella of love and respect.  The kind of love that breaks the chains of slavery, fear and hatred; the kind of love that sent a servant KING to the cross.  I fail at this love everyday, but I will not take the easy road of tolerance.  The only things I wish to tolerate are my milk products. 

      I understand that this love is supernatural and holy spiritual.  Not everyone has apprehended this kind of love that is empowered by the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  But that doesn't give me an excuse to not love people.  In fact, I'm more responsible and held accountable for how I treat the people around me.  At the end of the day, I hope that all people regardless of personal beliefs, worldviews, political affiliation or even sport allegiance can say "Ed disagreed with me, but he listened to me and he never stopped loving me."  Equally, I hope I can at least say of you, "our views may have made us opposites, but our hearts made us friends." Put aside for a moment the enormous number of Facebook friends you have accumulated and ask yourself a simple question: "Are you loved or put up with?"

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Day 19: Write in Someone Else’s Voice

The Coward The boy’s voice awakened the man.   He found shelter in the abandoned school, in what was once, his school, his office.   Eleven, twelve, and thirteen year old students once ran down those halls, hurrying to their classes, hurrying to his English class. Now since the incident, no children survived that massacre.   That thought made the man shake with fear until he drifted off to sleep.   So when the man heard the boy’s voice screaming “Help Me!, Please Help Me!”   it shook the man from his sleep.   The man laid still.   His heart pounded as he waited to hear boy again.   “Help me! Please Somebody!” The man heard the boy loud and clear.   He could not pretend it was some animal or dream.   He knew it was a boy. And it paralyzed him.   The man clutched his knees to his chest and tucked his chin.   He took slow deep breaths, silent breaths, hoping the boy would believe he was on his own, ...

The Force of Divorce (part 1)

I don’t think we truly understand what divorce is and why God hates it. For example, if I gave you the Merriam Webster’s definition of divorce, the action or instance of legally dissolving a marriage , more than likely you'll find that definition insufficient. If you are divorced or your parents are divorced, you know that definition lacks depth and substance. It’s like a survivor of a devastating hurricane describing his experience as “I witnessed a tropical cyclone with winds of 156 mph that was accompanied by heavy rain thunder and lightning.” You know that surviving a category 5 hurricane is bit more involved than announcing a weather report. (Ask anyone who survived Hurricane Katrina.) And yet every survivor’s story is unique and personal. I especially believe we don’t get what divorce does to our children. I’m not saying that I completely understand it either. I’ve never been divorced, (not even close), but I do know how it affected me as a kid. ...

Day 10: Write About Writing (unedited)

When I write, I feel like that first thought is like standing on the edge of a cliff.   Will I plunge to my death or defy gravity and fly?   The weight of my words I’m always conscious of, perhaps too much, but I’m working on that.   I remember when I used to have a severe stuttering problem.   I would need the help of a speech therapist just to find the ability to maintain simply conversations.   There’s nothing quite like having the words or the answers to questions or just questions themselves, trapped in my mind unable to come out and express themselves.   It took years before I found my voice. When I write I feel like I’m finding that voice again.   The blank screen waits patiently for me to tell it what to say.   I am very aware of the power of words and the impact that words have on humanity.   (how words impact me.)   when I write I want to reach your soul, make you smile, laugh, knod your head, maybe ev...