We have made love too pretty.
A heart.
A rainbow.
A little winged child with a bow who really should have had better supervision.
We turned love into decoration.
But love is not decoration.
Love is work.
Love is sacrifice.
Love is protection.
Imagine the storm coming.
The wind is rising. The house is shaking. There is no time left to debate, plan, or pray for a different outcome.
A man grabs his wife.
He yanks off his belt and wraps it around a sturdy pole, then around her.
Then he wraps himself around her.
Not because he thinks he can stop the storm.
Not because he believes he is stronger than the wind.
Because in that moment he has only one thing left to give.
Himself.
The storm passes.
She is still there.
Maybe injured.
Maybe bleeding.
Maybe barely able to understand what has happened.
But she is alive.
And he is gone.
The storm took him.
His mission was fulfilled.
That is love at its hardest.
Not affection.
Not sentiment.
Not a card bought on the way home.
Love that says:
If something must be taken, take me first.
That kind of love does not ask whether the sacrifice is convenient.
It does not check the schedule.
It does not ask whether anyone will notice.
It simply acts.
Maybe that is why we struggle so much with the words “God is love.”
We hear them and picture softness.
Comfort.
Warmth.
But love can also stand between danger and someone else.
Love can shield.
Love can suffer.
Love can give everything it has left to give.
“For God so loved the world, that He gave…”
There it is again.
Love gave.
And perhaps that is the part we sometimes forget.
Love is not measured only by what it feels.
Sometimes love is measured by what it is willing to lose.
That is love at its hardest.
