The Difficulty of Love

**Disclaimer: The following is written by a twenty-something who by no means claims to know what she is talking about. Also, the term “we” is used as a sweeping generalization of the American populace. Statements therein are not absolute truths nor are they indicative of everyone.

Even the most low-maintenance, self-aware person can be difficult to love. Perhaps it is a matter of time. Over time, all is revealed. This person is not as self-sustaining as once thought. And maybe that’s why it’s called “the honeymoon phase”. Things get rough. No one is entirely self-sufficient, nor can they meet our every need. Perhaps the issue lies within those of us who are asked to love. Despite our claims of process, our product is still weak because of our own need to be loved well.

I work at a renowned instrument store staffed predominately by musicians. This environment is conducive to philosophical conversations about the meaning of life and the role of music, not to mention load of stories about drunken orgy performances in dodgy venues across America. A recent conversation reminded me that a scattered few (in this case, men) are downcast because genuine romance is no longer written and sung about. I argued that this authenticity of emotion is due to a misunderstanding of true love.

I mean, sure it’s nice to know you miss me cuz my booty and $%#$^ ain’t available at your beck and call. It tears me up to hear that your friends can no longer be jealous of your arm candy or that your life is incomplete without me since you don’t have all three--money, sex, and power. In fact, your every beat and ungh stir burning passion deep in my soul. Just hold up a minute while I feed Kevin, bathe Danny, and send Shandra to school. Btw, you’ve missed three months of child support.

I would argue we do not love well, because we do not know how to love well. The divorce rate in America is ridiculous. What’s the point of getting married, except for taxation benefits? We all hear it’s not for the “lovin’ early in the morning” (ah, if we could all have partners like Ray Charles’ woman!). Living together is an option some choose, but I still it think skirts the heart of the issue.

My parents have been married for thirty-three years. That’s a crap-load of hard work, determination, and compromise. They still “discuss” to this day. Egalitarian dispersal of power is only possible through love--love that is characterized by selflessness, forgiveness, and grace.

Such love is nearly impossible to find. It is almost the unattainable goal. We get a glimpse of such love in a book or a moment captured on film, or even demonstrated by such couples as my parents. In the fleeting moment, we know both what love is and how love is manifested.

I’m not one of those cheesy romantic idealists, but I do have my lapse into philosophies declared by the likes of Shelley and Blake (yes, they are both dead white guys). At heart, I am this strange mix of idealist and realist. We ought to strive for this elusive ideal, yet realize that agape love is almost too perfect for flawed humanity. Idealistic romantic notions are sweet thoughts but have no value if they cannot be practically implemented. In other words, profess love that will move mountains but please demonstrate your love in action. I can say I have love for the poor and marginalized but if I stay locked in my tower of comfort and convenience, what kind of love is that? I can adamantly declare that I love my sister, but if I’m never around to listen to her stories, give her money when she needs it, and provide a shoulder to cry on, then do I truly love her?

If I don’t understand what love is and don’t know how to love, then I will never be able to love anyone properly. I will perpetuate the cycle of imperfection and selfishness. On the other hand, I can take my abstract understanding of this profound concept, and try to put it into practice.

Here’s a passage that describes what love is, and how it is employed.

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate…If I have faith that says to a mountain, “jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing. If I give everything to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say; what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.
Eugene Peterson paraphrase of I Corinthians 13.

Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up;
Does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil;
Does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth;
Bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails.
Apostle Paul, 1 Corinthians 13.