IHEARTU

I didn't really steal it.

I just borrowed it and haven't given it back yet. I guess that's a bit too common for me - I have been known to borrow books or CDs or DVDs or whatever for, well, years. I know it's not good, and trust me... it's not really what I'm aiming for. I guess the bright side is that it's not that different when I lend things - I forget pretty quickly who has them, and I'm very free to give out what I have. This has been a blessing and a curse at times - on one hand, the source of more emails than I would like to a whole bunch of friends asking if anyone had seen the book I felt like reading. On the other hand, though, getting a CD back from a friend after a couple of years of thinking it was lost is, in a somewhat perverse way, a pretty nice experience.

Anyways, an anonymous reader of TYC lent me a DVD while visiting Geneva a while ago. I was (am) supposed to send it on to another friend, but hadn't quite gotten there yet when we had a bit of a quick change-up at YAGS (a group from my church that meets weekly, and that I help to lead): I was supposed to lead a discussion on kind of short notice.

And something kind of strange happened: I found myself without anything to talk about.

If you know me, you'll know that this is kind of out of the ordinary, and it threw me for a bit of a loop. Usually, when someone asks "Hey, can you teach?" I respond with a rather prompt "How much time can I have?". But this last week, I didn't have many ideas, but I remembered this video, and thought maybe ît would be a good one for us to watch and discuss together.

Turns out it was.

It is about the life and writings of Henri Nouwen. I didn't know tons about the guy before - a friend had given me one of his books (Return of the Prodigal Son) that was good... good in the general sense of being insightful and well-written, but also good for me. I knew he had written a bunch of others, but wasn't that familiar with them. He had quite a life, and wrote from a place of pain and longing much of the time. The video (called Journey to the Heart) was good, well worth a watch, if you can get a hold of it (and aren't waiting in line after me for anonymous' copy). I'm going to read more of his books now.

But I tell you all that to tell you this: there was one idea in there that just reached out and grabbed me by the heart. It's this: God loves us - he has loved us since before we loved him, before we were born, before the world was created, before time began. And he has given us just a little bit of time on this planet - 20 years, 40 years, 70 years - to be able to say, "I love you, too".

Well, I think that the reason for creation is a little more complex than that. And I guess Henri probably did, too. But that doesn't take anything away from the truth of how beautiful it is to hear a real "I love you".

The little chick has been able to understand some of what love is, and to choose to demonstrate it for a while now (she is, as she will tell you, a big girl now, at three). But there is still something mind-blowing about those little arms being thrown around my legs, that little head burried in, and a muffled "I love you, Daddy" escaping in the midst of it. As she learns more, it becomes more and more meaningful: she wants to share with me. She wants to include me in what she's doing. She wants to know how I feel, and wants to see that she makes me happy in her love for me.


So I wonder: how much of my so-far-at-least-35 years on this planet am I spending telling (or showing) God that I love him?

I have also known "I love you's" that aren't quite like those I get from the little chick. When no expression of love is forthcoming it can be painful, but there is far more damage when an "I love you" offered is not truly heartfelt - or, worse, when it's a lie - than when it's just absent. Those are words that should never be spoken out of duty or obligation - where there is that kind of obligation, there is no real love.

And so I wonder about something else: how many times have I said or sung those words to him without really meaning them?


Three little words, but a lot to think about.