Yesterday at church we sang “Reckless Love.” It’s a beautiful song, but it can bring up frustration and doubt. God doesn’t really love me that way any more… does that mean he’s left me? As I watched the 20-somethings singing from the stage, I realized what’s going on here, and that God’s love is still real.
These lyrics are describing a very overt love – a particular way that God loves us. There is his radical saving love, and there is his subtle sustaining love, and both are just as true. His love has many different facets. He loves us in different ways based on where we’re at and where we’re going next and what he wants to show us about his nature.
The prodigal son comes to mind. The Father loved him Recklessly in that story. But what did it look like for the father to love the older son who stayed, the one who had decades of experience and relationship with his father? The one who was never lost and so did not need to be found; the one who never left and so did not need to be chased?
There's no shadow You won't light up Mountain You won't climb up Coming after me There's no wall You won't kick down Lie You won't tear down Coming after me Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending reckless love of God Oh, it chases me down, fights 'til I'm found, leaves the 99 I couldn't earn it, I don't deserve it, still You give yourself away Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending reckless love of God
I hear this and respond, “God is not chasing me down; He is not slaying dragons for me. Does this mean He doesn’t love me? I am suffering, and where is God?”
The latter stages of life in Christ are filled with suffering, say the ancients. No romantic rescues or exciting chasing scenes. Just ask Mother Teresa. So what does it look like for the older brother who has lived in the father’s house all this time? Can he get over his envy of the Father’s demonstrative, flagrant, saving love for his wayward brother? Can he realize what season his brother is in and what he needs, and separate that from his own journey? Can he see that God’s love has many forms and expressions? What does it look like for the father to love him all these steady, ordinary years? As he grows older and the suffering sets in, what does it look like for the Father to be good to him? How can he find God in the midst of the suffering?
“You have been so, so good to me…”
Really? I think to myself. But here is where I must realize:
God is still good. His goodness is just not what I expected. If I’m not seeing His goodness, I’m looking for the wrong evidence. I’m looking for saving love when He’s extending sustaining love. Somewhere in all of this pain God is here and God is good, and if he is good, then he MUST be good to me. I choose to believe it. We can choose to believe it.
I read 1 Corinthians 13 and wonder if this is what Paul is saying… Prophetic words are demonstrative and bold like reckless love, but later that will pass, and what remains is faith and hope and love. Love is patient, still around after the childish ways are a distant memory, waiting to help us see more fully with mature sight. The closer we get to a face-to-face relationship with God, prophecy becomes inept and love remains. In the seasons of suffering leading us toward that face-to-face, Hope is quietly sitting here with us. Bearing it all, still believing, still hoping, enduring, never failing to be Love.
I made myself sing the bridge and prayed something like this:
God, help me let go of my disappointment. It feels like you have not been good to me, but I am willing to suspend those feelings and make room for something I don’t yet perceive. Give me eyes to see your enduring goodness. It takes maturity to see this way; to see beyond the blaring saving love and settle into the silence where your sustaining love waits in the shadows. I let go of the former ways you demonstrated your love to me (although I’m grateful and remember fondly). This is not a time for recklessness; the last thing I need is a wrecking ball and you know that well. Forgive me for not assuming the best about you. Thank you for all the ways you love each child and meet us in our different seasons.
There must be something about your goodness to me in this season that I need to understand for the second half of life. Something about enduring, bearing, believing, hoping… I have yet to grasp it. Help me tune my senses to your long-term goodness. It’s hard. I do need your help. I trust that you still love me and you are still for me and you are still good and you are still good to me. I look forward to getting to know another part of your heart.