When it comes to love I have very high ideals. It's not that I think love is perfect, that would be impossible in a world of imperfection, but I do desire for it to be perfect. I have memorized the bulk on Shakespeare's Sonnet 116, because I think it's one of the most beautiful testimonies of love. "Love is not love which alters when alteration finds," in other words, love cannot be altered. "It is the star to every wandering bark," this verse being one I'm particularly infatuated with, as it paints love as even the guide to the wanderer. Then there's my other favorite love poem (or a favorite), "Brown Penny." In this poem Yeats says that man will always want to figure out love, for he will be thinking of love until "the starts have run away and the shadows swallowed the moon." Yeats concluded that "one cannot begin [love] too soon."
Now, I'll be the first to admit poetry is beautiful, these words have been a comfort to me many of times. Their very romantic nature and rhyme sparking my imagination and drawling me into the possibilities of such a noble love. To be honest, I have been guilty of this philosophy in regards to many avenues of love: songs, books, movies, quotes. The more epic display of love, perhaps the better.
But really?
What about tangible love? The kind that we can touch, not read about; the kind that why can make cry, not watch cry on a silvery screen; the kind that we can choose to treat how we must, not read words that tell us just how we should feel. What about that love? What is that suppose to look like?
Like most things it goes back to God. Sometimes I forget that God has others love us as a means of showing us what God's love is like for us. It has been through people that love me dearly that I have seen aspects of grace, service, and encouragement that has blown me away. It makes me think: if others can only show me a fraction of God's love, how much does God really love me? Wow. He must love me a lot. For it is only in him and through him that the words of those poems, or the lyrics in sentimental songs can even began to take flight. It is only in him that we can really know love and, therefore, show love.
I close with 1 Cor. 13, and though it's been read many times, it's powerful. More powerful than Shakespeare or Yeats, and something worth thinking about on a grey Tuesday like today.
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