Editor’s note: This blog was first published on Leigh’s secret blog, so it wasn’t actually published just like all blogs.
On a Friday at 5:35pm I decided to study love. 15 minutes later came my first test. I failed.
My study of love was prompted by a discarded book I picked up from our work library: A General Theory of Love. Combining the emotional and physical examinations of the subject, the book intrigued me. The authors are clinicians who approach their investigation into the topic pragmatically, but declare that they are pro-love. I decided I would be, too.
I would be for love. I would love, love. In all its messiness, confusion, deceit, euphoria, simplicity, and complexity: I would embrace it all. That is, until an opportunity to exhibit love shuffled towards my table at Starbucks in a hand-me-down coat, eyes downcast, mumbling a request for money. At that moment I was for lying about my cash supply, for getting rid of an uncomfortable situation, for selfishly dismissing a man as a man and treating him like a pesky fly. At that moment my study of love remained an intellectual exploration and detached from my actual life.
That was my first lesson in love.
“If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge [even the mystery of love], and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.” 1 Corinthians 13:2, addition mine.
“Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.” 1 John 3:18