WHAT DOES LOVE LOOK LIKE?

I don’t really ‘do’ Valentine’s Day. My husband is much better about it than I am. If I even remember to wish him a Happy Valentin’s Day, it’s a miracle. When my kids were young, it took a lot of effort to remember to get to Walmart and buy 24 cards, 24 boxes of those little candy hearts, and make a snack for the Valentine’s Day party. Nothing makes a parent panic more than hearing a third grader say, “We’re having a party tomorrow and I’m supposed to bring cupcakes.”

I also carry a bit of a wounded heart left over from my high school years. They changed Valentine’s Day in my school to Carnation Day, with the idea being that you could spend a buck and have a carnation ‘sent’ to your secret, or not so secret, girlfriend. (Sorry, PC police, this was back in the 70’s, and no one was sending flowers to the boys.)

I was shy, a bit of a nerd, and quite the geeky dresser in high school. I did not, ever, get a carnation. But, all the cheerleaders, class leaders, and popular girls did. Pretty girls would wander around the hallways with bunches of carnations in their arms, making it obvious to all that someone, or several someones, admired them. To my 15-year old eyes, it looked like I was the only one not getting a carnation. Of course, that wasn’t really the case, but that’s what it felt like. By the time I was a junior in high school I had my own car, so I simply stopped going to school on Carnation Day.

Oh, Lord … save us from high school angst! How many teenage horror, slasher flicks were made because someone nursed a grudge that started from a rejection in high school?

So, during this Valentine’s Day season I have considered this question:

“What does ‘love’ look like?”

Is it (as the commercials on TV tell us) two, beautiful people holding hands at sunset, walking on the beach? Is it a family of different colors and genders, blended together, sitting around a big table at dinner time, laughing and enjoying each other’s company? Is it a diamond ring? Or, a macaroni necklace? Is it something you can know in a day, or does it take a lifetime?

Depending on where you were born (your culture), who you were born to (your genetics), and a million other unforeseeable circumstances (the twists and turns of all our lives), will determine how you answer the question: What does love look like?

Is there ONE definitive answer to this question, that rises above our circumstances, our genetics and our cultures?

Yes, I believe there is.

Love looks like … humility. You can see love in the humility of the great King who stepped off His Throne to rescue His people. A King who left His rightful place on the Throne of heaven, to come to earth as a baby, so He could grow to become a man, and die on a cross for the sins of the world.

At the cross, love looked battered, bruised and bloodied. At the cross, love stood alone. No sunsets, no diamonds, no dinner table filled with laughter, no hand holding.

The sight of a beaten, hated Savior, horrible to look at, was the single, greatest act of love the world has even known.

If you didn’t get flowers or chocolates for Valentine’s Day, don’t be discouraged. Temporary, earthly treasures are just that … temporary and earthly.

Jesus Christ paid a great price for you, so that you can enjoy eternal, heavenly treasures. The love He wants to shower you with does not wilt or melt. And He has left us the greatest love letter of all – His Word, the Bible.

Christ did not stay on the cross. He is risen and glorified, seated, once again, on His Throne. We, also, will go, at the time of our death, to our new eternal home in our glorified bodies. If you do not know for sure if you will go to heaven when you die, TODAY is the day to ask Christ to be your Savior.

Dear Jesus,

Please come and live in my heart. Thank you for the blood you shed on the cross to pay for my sins. Please forgive me and guide me in truth. Thank you for all you have done for me and lead me on the right path as I go forward. Amen.

**if you are in need of counseling, or looking for a church, please visit ggwo.org