A reflection on Valentine's Day

For all those who saw the video in my last blog post...that's not really how I feel about Valentine's Day. I should certainly hope it's not.

A lot of strange and wonderful things have happened lately, some of which may have something to do with Valentine's Day.

And no, people, I have not fallen in love. Sorry to disappoint you.

This past weekend, I was at a high school retreat with some of my very good friends, and some friends that I am only just getting to know.
The retreat itself was a very different experience from the norm. Rather than have a very emotional speaker, who would get everyone in tears, and then live on an emotional high for a week, after which we would all drop into the depths of depression...rather than that, the speaker and the messages in general were a much quieter affair. The entire atmosphere was one of peace, and respect, and reverence. It was a lot less about feelings, and a lot more about God.

This, I feel, is how any relationship, romantic or otherwise, ought to be. A relationship is not made of feelings. It does not subsist solely on that fluttery feeling in your chest, the heady sense of well-being, or even the joyous excitement. All these are only symptoms, not source. In fact, in many cases, a relationship must subsist on sheer will power, and it flourishes in the very absence of its feelings. Humans, dependent on emotion as we are, often let our feelings get in the way of a truly fulfilling relationship.

Also at retreat, I learned a great deal about my friends. I saw some of them in a new light, in a more vulnerable state. I see them flawed, and broken, and not the put-together, everything-under-control person they normally are. And somehow, my love for them is increased.

Some people, when they see that someone is not as perfect as they once thought, would abandon him or her, and find someone else to attach themselves to. After all, it is only logical to connect yourself with someone who is stronger. However, the love of the Father defies logic. And the love of the Father dwells in the hearts of His children. Thus, we too can defy the logic.

Another thing that struck me was my own inability to help those who are hurting. Those of you who know me will know that I have led a charmed (I guess I should say "blessed") life. I have not had very major crises in my life, and if I have, I am probably refusing to acknowledge them. Thus, when I see other people hurting, I want so much to help and comfort, and yet have trouble finding the words to do so. I spent a good ten minutes staring out a window, praying about this.

And I have realized, not without some pain, that I am unable to love people as they should be loved. I am unable to speak their love language so that they can understand completely, and I am incapable of showing them the love that they deserve from me. Only Christ can truly commiserate, in the truest sense of the word, (look it up in a Latin roots dictionary), with people. I am helpless to sympathize or empathize. Only by letting Christ love through me, will I be able to show the love my friends and family deserve.

Ultimately, we, as fallen humans, are incapable of showing complete and perfect love for another, and thus, we should not expect perfect love from another human being, either. We are terrible communicators, easily distracted, and very, very selfish. Human love will always be marred with imperfection, never mind what the poets say. However, love, imperfect or not, is still love - hence, it is a reflection of God's nature. Our love is God's love, reflected through a broken mirror.

And one day, that mirror will be repaired.