What Would You Do for Love?

2 Corinthians 11:1-6; Judges 15:1-8; 1 Chronicles 15:29; John 3:16

People in love do some stupid things. A college friend once filled an entire dorm room—floor to ceiling, wall to wall—with pink and red balloons in homage to his beloved. A woman drove right up onto a sidewalk because she thought she saw her beloved walking on the opposite walk. A man bought a steer—yes, a steer—because he misunderstood his wife’s request—I’ll leave it to you to figure out what she asked for (and even if you were to guess, it wouldn’t matter, because the bovine had nothing to do with much of anything). And that’s the way it goes for people in love.

Just ask Samson.

We know he got an extreme haircut for love. You may not have realized he went stark raving loony because of his wife until you encountered our story this morning. The Bible sometimes surprises us with stories that seemingly have nothing at all to do with God, perhaps not even mentioning God (e.g., Esther). The Samson cycle in Judges is like that. These are just stories. But their truth comes in their realism with regard to how we actually are. Here is what we do. Here is what we say. Here is the truth of our lives. Samson is first and last a human being. In that reality, he makes a mess of things, redeems himself, and finds himself a servant of God, working the preservation of God’s people. It all comes to be through his love. He loses himself in love, losing his mind at times, but still manages deep expressions of the fullness of love—even when it goes horribly, terribly wrong—cf. Delilah. 

Love brings out the best in us. 

Because of love, Samson found a strength within himself that knew almost no bounds. Many parents make this discovery, too, sometimes literally. A mom watches as her child crashes her bike under a parked trailer and without thinking, rushes over, lifts the trailer, and rescues her daughter. Only afterwards does she realize the trailer weighed several hundred pounds. 

That strength, though, can be an inner experience, as well. 

Here in our community, we see it frequently. A husband watches his wife leave for a tour of duty in Afghanistan, leaving him with two small children, all the subsequent responsibilities, and the fearful, prayerful vigil for her safety that is unending and all-consuming. He finds a way to endure. He keeps at it. He maintains life at home until she returns. And, of course, she matches his heroic effort while serving. They both find reserves of strength and power unimaginable because of their love.

Now, there is a fascinating lesson for us within the community of faith in this reflection on the power of love.

We are part of a faith stream utterly defined by love. John stated it flatly, “God so loved the world, that God gave God’s only Son, so that whoever believes in him may not perish, but have eternal life.” Because this act defines our God, our practice of faith should reflect and embody it. Our faith is all about love.

So what would you do for love?

David and Paul offer examples.

David knew God handpicked him to be a servant, shepherding the people of God as their king. He was also a fully, ridiculously human being. His pinnacles were matched by his abject failures—which is probably why he was a perfect choice to become a paradigmatic monarch. But, like Samson, he was led by love. His love for God was legendary. The prayers he composed ring through the ages—he may well have composed Psalm 23—he gets credit for it, anyway. He instigated the construction of the Temple—although God dissuaded him—because his devotion could not abide keeping the presence of God in a dirty, bedraggled, moth-eaten tent several centuries old—God was holiness and purity, and this was not. He would give all to his God—even his dignity. One eventful day, the Ark of the Covenant was brought into Jerusalem. David went a little nuts. He made a complete fool of himself as the parade wound through town. The Chronicler omits was the author of Samuel tells us—David not only danced, he stripped himself buck-naked in joy. No wonder his wife was embarrassed for him and by him. What a fool! But all for love.

David saw and knew something we all should see and know—God loves us. Instead of blithely taking that for granted, David lost his mind in the presence of miracle. The question was never why did David do that, but rather, why are we so dad-blamed blase in our presence before God? Do we not get how wondrous it is that God loves us? cares for us? names us? 

Which brings us into the presence of Paul. He gets it. He does not waltz around “nekkid” in front of everybody, but he loses his mind, nonetheless. So overwhelmed by the presence and love of God, he babbles like a mountain brook to whomever he meets. He will spare no shred of self-importance, self-preservation, or self image in losing himself to proclaim Christ and Christ’s redeeming love for all of us. He recognizes that he is nothing without that love, so he holds nothing back in telling of it. 

Do we believe so fiercely?

Simply pause and ponder.

The love that claimed David from his father’s pasture to lead his people is the same love we encounter every morning we rise into a new day. The love that led Paul to abandon a life devoted to study, prayer, and obedience to become the chief voice for all that was opposed to his previous practice is also with us, transforming and transcending who and what we are. The love that quickened Samson into moments of complete insanity—albeit righteously so—is also the same love we invoke in every prayer and hymn offered here this morning.

Take that in. 

Love is completely unreasonable. It is utterly irrational. It truly is something that matches Alan Greenspan’s famous verbiage of “irrational exuberance.” 

God is love.

Tells you something, doesn’t it?

Go back to John’s succinct summation of our creed—take it in as it is—that God would do this—an act of self-emptying love for no other reason than to reclaim the people who wantonly disregard him daily—makes no sense whatsoever. 

But it is love.

And love is our aim.

Act accordingly.