Advent: Embodied Love
When the high emotions and physical distress of a car wreck had begun to dampen, the evidence of the accident remained. As I scratched my head, there was debris fixed to my scalp. It was the glass, bloody glass. I quickly raced backward in time and space to recall how I had gotten here. In that moment of reminiscing, there was lots of pain but even more love.
This season of life was one where I regularly switched my masks depending on which group of people I would be around. Living life as a hypocrite is exhausting. The mask is heavy. It’s costly. One moment I would be singing hymns, leading bible study, or providing instruction on how to live the Christian life faithfully. A split second later, you could find me in apparent contradiction. I was acting no different on this Sunday afternoon in the late ’90s.
Not only had lying to family and friends become commonplace to cover up my sinful decisions, but I also was not honoring my girlfriend. My girlfriend and I decided to see a matinee movie. Driving home after the film while daydreaming and distracted, I made a left turn right into an oncoming vehicle. The impact was brutal. The car was totaled, the car I hit was demolished, and my girlfriend was rushed via ambulance to the local hospital. This was entirely my fault. I felt terrible. Disgusted.
Before leaving the scene, riding in the back of a police cruiser, the EMS had something to show me. The EMS escorted me to the passenger side door of my mangled black and red pinstriped Chevy Lumina. The first responder was ecstatic to show me the anti-intrusion beam on the side door; the Lumina model I was driving was in its first year of having this particular safety beam. If there had been no beam in place, it was remarkably evident from the damage surrounding her door that it saved her life.
The ride home in the back of the Butler County Sheriff's police cruiser was gloomy. It was quiet in the car. It was loud inside my head. This whole mess was entirely my fault. I had injured my girlfriend, hurt a total stranger, and ruined my parent's car; underlying all this were lies. These are the lies any teenager is naive enough to think their parents believe. How was my Dad going to respond? Swirling around my thoughts was the verbal flogging of a lifetime. Indeed, I was going to hear how moronic I was, how this was all my fault, or how this would financially hurt my family. To be clear, my Dad was not known or had ever treated me this way; the internal dialogue during the ride home had convinced me of this condemnation.
We finally arrived home. My Dad and Mom were standing in the yard waiting for me. I stepped out of the car, met my parents, wept, and my Dad embraced me. Do you know what he said? He told me, “I love you, and I’m glad you’re okay.” Never once did my Dad rebuke, humiliate, or shame me for what I did. My Dad knew it was my fault. I knew it was my fault. The insurance company knew it was my fault. What I needed was compassion. My Dad knew that. He showed it. Love.
That Sunday, I experienced the deep love of God working through my earthly father in the power of the Holy Spirit. John, the beloved disciple of Jesus, writes in I John 4:8 that God is Love. Thus, Love is not merely an act of God but rather his eternal, unchanging disposition. Carl F.H. Henry states that love “is not accidental or incidental to God; it is an essential revelation of the divine nature, a fundamental and eternal perfection. His love, like all other divine attributes, reflects the whole of his being in specific actions and relationships.” Thankfully, this attribute of love can be communicated through his church body today.
As we reflect and prepare this Advent season on the embodiment of Love in Christ Jesus, we may be confident that God’s love is perfectly shown in Jesus’ birth, life, death, burial, and resurrection. Those who behold Christ Jesus will be held by him. He is with us. He is love.
Submitted By: Mikey Conrad