Reflections on Unconditional Love
I've discussed my own views on love here. My good friend Friar Dave gave his own thoughts on the subject. Now I'm going to expand on mine.
I've had some pretty big relationships, particularly my relationships with women, go in some ways that I really didn't expect in recent months. To quote Jeremy from the first episode of the second season of Sports Night, entitled Special Powers... Okay, well, it's so funny in context, so I'll put more than just the quote itself, and put the quote itself in Italics.
Since mid-October, my life has taken several abrupt and bizarre turns, particularly with regard to my relationships with women. I've only just in the last week gotten to the point where my level of confidence, and the Lycanesque level of energy and motivation, have returned. That's basically four and a half months where I haven't been the regular Fly that my friends and associates know, adore, and in some cases fear.
Since my situation has been so completely complicated by drastic changes in some very potent and powerful relationships with women, I've had some time to ponder on the nature of love. These are some of my thoughts.
First, I stick by my earlier statement, though it deserves some clarification. Do I believe in love? Technically, yes I do. I believe that love is the perfect emotion, the perfect state. Love is a form of perfection. You see, folks, a great deal of my personal philosophy revolves around two passages of the Bible. First, you've got the first sin and its punishment, as described in Genesis 3. The second is Romans 3:21-24:
I believe that in the original state, the state in which Adam and Eve lived in Eden, humanity was perfect, albeit innocent and naive. Had Adam and Eve lived forever in Eden, and resisted the temptation, I believe that some of the physical ailments we encounter (arthritis, cancer, multiple sclerosis) would have never come into being. I could go into that more, because I'm sure there's somebody out there who'd love to pick my theory apart, but my hypothesis stands, and for the purposes of this discussion, let's assume that my Calvinist belief in the doctrine of total depravity is correct.
So, given that mankind was perfect in Eden, and that the sin committed by Adam and Eve resulted in the abolition of perfection, my belief is that love, the perfect emotion, slipped beyond the grasp of human beings when Adam and Eve committed the original sin. Now, I believe that humans can approximate it, or come close to it; but I believe that true, real love is perfect, and that humans are incapable of synthesizing and recreating it. So, my position on love and humans professes our de facto inability to truly and completely love, at least on a philosophical level.
Christians believe that God came to Earth in the form of Jesus Christ, that we might be saved from our sins and redeemed in God's eyes. Jesus was the first man since Adam to be born free of sin, and according to my philosophy (backed up at least partially by Calvinist theology), the first man capable of true love in any form since Adam and Eve succumbed to temptation.
Now, say what you will about the Bible and its degree of historical accuracy; I happen to be a historian, and no matter how much Poosh thinks the term is misused on me, I can tell you that the Bible is extremely historically accurate. The writers of the four Gospels in particular give us an amazing view of the way Jesus treated people and lived His life. Christians are called to follow Jesus' example; what better example can we follow than the only man who was still as perfect and blameless when He died as He was when He was born? In fact, the Bible tells us in Saint Paul's letter to the church in Ephesus:
So, assuming we can never truly reach the level set by Jesus, we are at least called to follow His example insofar as we possibly can. Part of the example of Christ's love for the church was that it was unconditional: for example, Christ put Saint Peter in charge of building the church, even though Peter had betrayed him and denied him thrice. Peter was a man like King David or Johnny Cash: he was a man who kept making mistakes, but in the end God redeemed him and did great things through him.
Or what about Saint Paul? God enforced a radical conversion on the man who had been one of the most ardent persecutors of Christians. Saul of Tarsus had no apparent redeeming qualities; but he knew the Law, he was an educated Jew who had talents and a mind for what needed to be done in order to ensure the long-term survival of the church. God forgave and redeemed Saul, and his conversion was so complete that he even changed his name.
So, what does this have to do with romantic love? Well, there are several things that I've come to consider recently; some of it ties into a recent related post. Basically, though, we as humans who seek love, in all its forms, must recognize that in order to seek love, whether we can truly achieve it or not, we must overcome the shortcomings of those whom we seek to love. We must realize that we will be hurt; whether the wounds are shallow or deep, those whom we love and seek to love will hurt us.
What I've come to realize is that there's a terror that goes along with that. There's a fear and insecurity when someone tells you, "I will love you without condition, even if you hurt me. Our relationship may change, and you may betray me, but I will still love you." And there's a terror that comes with saying those words yourself. Such a sentiment erases all rights to things like pride and security; it gives one no remaining recourse in tough situations.
This is what the words "I love you" are supposed to mean; and as you can probably imagine, they're thrown about far too casually by far too many people. When you're dealing with the closest a human can come to real love, there's no such thing as "I'll love her unless she's unfaithful" or "I'll love her unless she's dishonest"; to say the words, and to really mean the words, it requires that all flaws in the other person, whether it's a son or daughter, a friend, a lover, be overlooked; well, not overlooked, but forgiven before they even come to the surface. The forgiveness has to be ready before the act that hurts you even occurs.
True love means preemptive forgiveness. Not only does this put pressure on the lover, but it puts pressure on the beloved, and some choose not to deal with that pressure. That's why, for instance, "I love you" is essentially the nuclear option in any relationship: either it's the right thing to say, and it adds legitimacy and cohesion to the existing bond; or it puts excessive strain on the relationship.
I believe that this is part of the reason why some people resist salvation; and it's certainly one of the reasons why people resist engaging in serious relationships. There's a great deal of vulnerability involved when you open yourself up to a relationship in which the greatest testament of devotion you can give is an admission that you're ready to be hurt; but it's that vulnerability, particularly shared vulnerability, that makes even the incomplete, synthetic, sub-par human version of love so truly amazing and powerful.
Thus saith the Fly.
I've had some pretty big relationships, particularly my relationships with women, go in some ways that I really didn't expect in recent months. To quote Jeremy from the first episode of the second season of Sports Night, entitled Special Powers... Okay, well, it's so funny in context, so I'll put more than just the quote itself, and put the quote itself in Italics.
Natalie: Men harbor this illusion that they can cover up their, you know, with this other thing, but woman always know.
Jeremy: No! They don't! You know why not? Because women don't have special powers! Let's dispense with that theory right now. Women don't have a sixth sense. Women don't have intuition. Women don't have special powers! You were being offered a job in Galveston. That meant that I was going to have to, like, go there. I was going to have to go and live there and get a job in Galveston! And I wasn't going to get offered a job in broadcasting. It was going to be ranch work for me, okay? Or big game fishing. Either way, my life has taken an abrupt and bizarre turn. Because one minute I'm paying my bills with money I'm earning at my dream job, while dating the most beautiful woman on the planet, and the next minute I'm on a cattle drive and I'm dating the weather girl from "Good Morning, Galveston." And I'd have done it! I'd have moved to Galveston with the heat and the cattle and the malaria. I'd have done it because that's how much I love you, and that's how much I want what you want. But you can't expect me to be wild about the idea! [Pause] What?
Natalie: You are so cute.
Jeremy: Natalie...
Natalie: You are just so cute.
Jeremy: Look, we have to be serious for just a second.
Natalie: I'm totally serious.
Since mid-October, my life has taken several abrupt and bizarre turns, particularly with regard to my relationships with women. I've only just in the last week gotten to the point where my level of confidence, and the Lycanesque level of energy and motivation, have returned. That's basically four and a half months where I haven't been the regular Fly that my friends and associates know, adore, and in some cases fear.
Since my situation has been so completely complicated by drastic changes in some very potent and powerful relationships with women, I've had some time to ponder on the nature of love. These are some of my thoughts.
First, I stick by my earlier statement, though it deserves some clarification. Do I believe in love? Technically, yes I do. I believe that love is the perfect emotion, the perfect state. Love is a form of perfection. You see, folks, a great deal of my personal philosophy revolves around two passages of the Bible. First, you've got the first sin and its punishment, as described in Genesis 3. The second is Romans 3:21-24:
But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify. This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.
I believe that in the original state, the state in which Adam and Eve lived in Eden, humanity was perfect, albeit innocent and naive. Had Adam and Eve lived forever in Eden, and resisted the temptation, I believe that some of the physical ailments we encounter (arthritis, cancer, multiple sclerosis) would have never come into being. I could go into that more, because I'm sure there's somebody out there who'd love to pick my theory apart, but my hypothesis stands, and for the purposes of this discussion, let's assume that my Calvinist belief in the doctrine of total depravity is correct.
So, given that mankind was perfect in Eden, and that the sin committed by Adam and Eve resulted in the abolition of perfection, my belief is that love, the perfect emotion, slipped beyond the grasp of human beings when Adam and Eve committed the original sin. Now, I believe that humans can approximate it, or come close to it; but I believe that true, real love is perfect, and that humans are incapable of synthesizing and recreating it. So, my position on love and humans professes our de facto inability to truly and completely love, at least on a philosophical level.
Christians believe that God came to Earth in the form of Jesus Christ, that we might be saved from our sins and redeemed in God's eyes. Jesus was the first man since Adam to be born free of sin, and according to my philosophy (backed up at least partially by Calvinist theology), the first man capable of true love in any form since Adam and Eve succumbed to temptation.
Now, say what you will about the Bible and its degree of historical accuracy; I happen to be a historian, and no matter how much Poosh thinks the term is misused on me, I can tell you that the Bible is extremely historically accurate. The writers of the four Gospels in particular give us an amazing view of the way Jesus treated people and lived His life. Christians are called to follow Jesus' example; what better example can we follow than the only man who was still as perfect and blameless when He died as He was when He was born? In fact, the Bible tells us in Saint Paul's letter to the church in Ephesus:
Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. After all, no one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for it, just as Christ does the church— for we are members of his body. "For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh." This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church. However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.
- Ephesians 5:25-33
So, assuming we can never truly reach the level set by Jesus, we are at least called to follow His example insofar as we possibly can. Part of the example of Christ's love for the church was that it was unconditional: for example, Christ put Saint Peter in charge of building the church, even though Peter had betrayed him and denied him thrice. Peter was a man like King David or Johnny Cash: he was a man who kept making mistakes, but in the end God redeemed him and did great things through him.
Or what about Saint Paul? God enforced a radical conversion on the man who had been one of the most ardent persecutors of Christians. Saul of Tarsus had no apparent redeeming qualities; but he knew the Law, he was an educated Jew who had talents and a mind for what needed to be done in order to ensure the long-term survival of the church. God forgave and redeemed Saul, and his conversion was so complete that he even changed his name.
So, what does this have to do with romantic love? Well, there are several things that I've come to consider recently; some of it ties into a recent related post. Basically, though, we as humans who seek love, in all its forms, must recognize that in order to seek love, whether we can truly achieve it or not, we must overcome the shortcomings of those whom we seek to love. We must realize that we will be hurt; whether the wounds are shallow or deep, those whom we love and seek to love will hurt us.
What I've come to realize is that there's a terror that goes along with that. There's a fear and insecurity when someone tells you, "I will love you without condition, even if you hurt me. Our relationship may change, and you may betray me, but I will still love you." And there's a terror that comes with saying those words yourself. Such a sentiment erases all rights to things like pride and security; it gives one no remaining recourse in tough situations.
"Why don't you just walk away? Or why don't you call him out? He's hurting you!"
"It's not that simple; I love him."
This is what the words "I love you" are supposed to mean; and as you can probably imagine, they're thrown about far too casually by far too many people. When you're dealing with the closest a human can come to real love, there's no such thing as "I'll love her unless she's unfaithful" or "I'll love her unless she's dishonest"; to say the words, and to really mean the words, it requires that all flaws in the other person, whether it's a son or daughter, a friend, a lover, be overlooked; well, not overlooked, but forgiven before they even come to the surface. The forgiveness has to be ready before the act that hurts you even occurs.
True love means preemptive forgiveness. Not only does this put pressure on the lover, but it puts pressure on the beloved, and some choose not to deal with that pressure. That's why, for instance, "I love you" is essentially the nuclear option in any relationship: either it's the right thing to say, and it adds legitimacy and cohesion to the existing bond; or it puts excessive strain on the relationship.
I believe that this is part of the reason why some people resist salvation; and it's certainly one of the reasons why people resist engaging in serious relationships. There's a great deal of vulnerability involved when you open yourself up to a relationship in which the greatest testament of devotion you can give is an admission that you're ready to be hurt; but it's that vulnerability, particularly shared vulnerability, that makes even the incomplete, synthetic, sub-par human version of love so truly amazing and powerful.
Thus saith the Fly.
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