February. The month of love. LOVE.
So many songs.
So many poems.
So many definitions.
What is it?
If you asked 10 people, you’d get 10 answers. And there’s a good chance you have several definitions of your own that will fly in the face of whatever I present here today.
I think it’s important to note that I will be talking about this from the aspect of Galatians 5:22-23.
What is an example of the supernatural love in our lives that can only be produced and maintained by God’s Spirit? A love that would be EVIDENCE of God’s Spirit’s residence in our lives?
I’ll keep this short: CALVARY. Calvary shows all the love possible in one singular act.
It was a bloody affair. Violent and beautiful. This is the standard by which I judge the love of Jesus in my life, flowing out to others. Most times (if not all the time), I fall woefully short. But I do have to say I’ve come a long way. And it’s only by way of absorbing how much I have been loved by God.
His love is unconditional.
He loved me when I was His enemy.
I can’t do one more thing that will make Him love me more.
That’s the love that is lavished on me 24 hours a day. And when I can abide in that love and believe in it fully, it’s easier to extend it.
God is gracious. Not only did He send His Son as the embodiment of love, He gave us a very detailed list of what was on display on Calvary: 1 Corinthians 13.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
The most profound way this kind of love has played itself out in my life is in the practice of forgiveness. We talk a lot on The Brant Hansen Show (my day job) about loving your enemies. But I’m here to tell you it’s much easier to talk about than to do.
Growing up, my father was, well, I will be kind (another fruit we’ll get to) and say he made our lives very difficult every single day. When I graduated high school, I swore I would never see or speak to him again. That was the plan, and I pretty much stuck to it until well after college and into my late 20s.
One day, I was on the radio interviewing a man who wrote a book on love and forgiveness. While he was speaking, it dawned on me how much hatred and bitterness I had in my heart towards my dad. I kept doing the interview, but I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. My fist was balled up. My temples throbbed. Finally, I exclaimed, “BUT I CAN’T DO IT!”
There was silence.
The author graciously broke the silence, “What’s that, now?”
I collected myself the best I could and tried to salvage the moment.
“What if,” I continued many decibels lower, “like, you can’t forgive or love? I mean, what if someone is listening right now...”
I thought it was good to turn it back to the listener.
“...and they’ve experienced such horror at the hands of a person, that love and forgiveness are impossible.” The lump in my throat made my voice break. I took a deep breath and blew it out into the mic.
“Well,” he said kindly. He knew I wasn’t talking about the listener. “I would simply say,” he paused deliberately, “to that person... if they are a believer in Jesus, Calvary gives them no choice.”
I don’t remember another thing that man said. Actually, I don’t remember anything I said after that. I just continued to think about the love of Jesus displayed to me through Calvary. The fact that when I was still sinning, He gave Himself for me. His love wasn’t based on my repentance. His love paved the way to my repentance.
So I asked God to work on my heart. It would have to be a supernatural work, and it wasn’t going to be overnight.
I focused on how much He loved me. I internalized it in every way possible: songs, scripture, testimonies to and from others. I let the true, overwhelming love of God wash over me.
When I sinned (which was often), strangely, His love was even more palpable because I realized I could humble myself, confess that sin, and be instantly cleansed and forgiven.
What love He has for me. For us.
About a year or so later (I’m not sure how long it took), I had a call with my dad. It was initiated by him. He was calling collect from jail to see if I could put money on his books (if you don’t know what that terminology means, count yourself blessed). He didn’t have my personal phone number, but found out I worked at a radio station. That’s where he called me.
Yes, read that again. Never mind, I’ll type it again for you:
My dad called me at my job (a radio station), collect, to ask me to borrow money after not talking to me in years.
After telling him an emphatic “NO," I continued.
“Um, Dad...” I felt the same lump in my throat I did over a year ago during that fateful radio interview.
“Yeah, sweetie...” he replied.
“I forgive you, and I love you,” I said in one quick breath, fearing that if I took any longer it wouldn’t come out.
There was silence.
“Uh...” he stammered. It was the first time EVER I remember him being speechless.
“I don’t have anything else to give you,” I continued. “So, if you need something else, I can’t give that. But I love you, and I don’t hold anything against you.”
There was silence again.
“Dad,” I continued, “did you hear me?”
“Yeah, dad heard you,” he said. He loved talking about himself in the third person. “But, really, I mean... I don’t know what there is to forgive. Dad did the best he could. I told you kids, I wasn’t gonna bend over trying to make you...”
*Click*
The Penal System of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania mercifully cut the call, no doubt due to the lack of money he was asking to borrow.
I sat there with the phone still to my ear. Just months ago, that call would have ruined my week if not my month. I just slowly put the phone down. I kept waiting for a very familiar bitterness to overtake me, but it didn’t.
I felt... um... I don’t want to say it felt like love. I think it felt more like sadness. Sadness for him. Why? Because I actually believed what he said:
“I did the best I could.”
I believe that’s true. And I think in life I have done that and have continued to fall short of God’s standards, and He continues to love me. How can I not forgive?
I breathed a sigh of relief. The weight of hatred that had plagued me since a child was gone. I would say “just like that,” but if you remember, at least a year passed between that radio interview and that jailhouse call.
It took that long for a little bud of fruit to show. A small but blossoming piece of love that could have only been produced supernaturally. And it wasn’t just for that scenario. Love was beginning to infect my life the same way hate did, but only to the extent that I kept God’s unspeakable love for me in constant view.
Over the years, my Dad would call only when he needed something. The answer was always “No,” but the call always ended the same: “Love you.”
That, my friends, is a work of the Holy Spirit alone, and fruit I pray others through the years have been able to glean from my life in increasing measure.
Maybe you have a similar story? How has the supernatural love of God developed in your life? I’d love to hear it.
It doesn’t have to be as emotionally fraught as my example. Maybe it’s just buying the co-worker that drives you crazy lunch?
Don’t despise small beginnings. A delicious apple doesn’t appear full-size on the tree immediately. It develops over time.
Even if you’re just seeing a small bulb on a once-withering vine, SAY SOMETHING!
Here’s my email: sherri@branthansen.com
Next up... one of my favorites: JOY!