Curtis Klingle

Love, The Lesson Continues

I recently lost a friend. It is in these times of loss that we think about the one that has passed on, as well as look inside ourselves. It seems the older I get the more I analyze the life of the decedent, as well as perform this introspection. It is during this act that I query my soul, “Am I living up to what I believe?” “What kind of legacy am I leaving?”

In this particular case, I use the “term” friend on his behalf because I believe he was a friend to me, but to my own shame, I do not believe I reciprocated as well as I should have. I never got to really know him. He was one of those people I could never fully connect with, and there were even those times that I found him abrasive. In my defense, I never entertained supercilious thoughts, I am not fool enough to think I am better than anyone else. It seems that placing myself lower than my fellow man is one lesson I may have learned, but I wouldn’t count on it to be consistent.

I know we have all experienced those individuals whom we interact with frequently, but we are never able to become true “friends” with. It is those people we meet that when described with a country folk adage, we “gee,” and they “haw,” and we seem to never meet in the middle. It is as if there is some invisible barrier set between us that is impassible. Even simple communication is strained, so you can forget any conversation with any depth.

I have learned that anything I am drawn to contemplate to this degree is something I must pay close attention to. There is a lesson to be learned within. As I continued to probe this supposed barrier, I became deeply troubled. What I found was that there was no blame to be assigned on the side of the one I seem to have resistance to, thus there was no fault to be found with them for our lack of intimacy, but rather all responsibility appeared to fall upon my own shoulders. The great hindrance to fellowship was…me. This revelation logically progressed to the conclusion that there must be some fault in me. What could it be that inhibits my ability to truly know some of my fellow creatures?

I had the opportunity to visit with his family and as I listened to their comments, I noted that each talked of his commitment to them individually as well as their family as a whole. The actions they described were by definition, selfless. What I discovered as I spoke with them, was that I am far below this man’s level of love and service to the ones he loved. But it wasn’t just his family that he had made this impact upon, but countless others that had the good fortune to have interacted with him. Granted, some of these were fleeting, but many were on a day-to-day basis. The one consistent variable reported by all was his love for others. It was at this moment that my mourning for his loss quickly turned to grieving for my own soul. Isn’t it amazing how rapidly one’s focus can change from outward to inwardly when a flaw is illuminated?!  

My lack of fellowship with him was because I did not love, and yes, it is that simple. Oh, how I struggle with this! This is the topic I write about the most, and you would think I would have a handle on it by now, but alas, no, no I don’t; it still remains elusive and just when I think I’ve got it, it slips from my grasp.

Jesus instructed me in John 15:12 that I am to love others as He loves me. Oswald Chambers elaborated on this verse and stated that it infers even more, that Jesus is telling me, “I will bring a number of people around you whom you cannot respect, but you must exhibit My love to them, just as I have exhibited to you.” My God doesn’t love me because I am this great guy and He has found me lovable. God loves me because love is what He does. God is love. He is the noun and the verb version of love. What is more, I am commanded to be the same and to do the same, and let me tell you, it is a “hard row to hoe.”

I recognize most of my shortcomings and those things I need to work on, this one being yet another weakness in character that God has so refulgently pointed out. But it really isn’t a matter of working on it because it is not a behavioral issue, it is something deeper, something intrinsic within me. There is still more I must submit to Christ. We must keep in mind that it is only that which we have submitted to Him that will escape the refining fire; everything else will be burned away like so much chaff.

Dr. Paul Brand was a medical missionary in India for many years and worked with leprosy patients. Leprosy is not just a physical disease but one that effects the soul. You become an outcast, a pariah. Brand, and Philip Yancy co-authored a book titled, “The Gift of Pain.” In it, Brand recalled an incident when,

“I was examining the hands of a bright young man, trying to explain to him in my broken Tamil that we could halt the progress of the disease, and perhaps restore some movement to his hand.  I expected him to smile in response, but instead he began to shake with muffled sobs.

“‘Have I said something wrong?’ I asked my assistant in English. ‘Did he misunderstand me?’ She quizzed him in a spurt of Tamil and replied, ‘No, doctor. He says he is crying because you put your hand around his shoulder. Until he came here no one had touched him for many years.’”

I first read that story many years ago and I return to it often. It is a vivid reminder to me that there are those who walk among us that are not afraid to cross the threshold into another human being’s life and suffering, even when that person may be deemed repulsive. There is a human being inside all of us and we are to treat him or her with the reverence that a child of the living God deserves. This is not some soft soap statement either. We are commanded to do so.  

I am so sorrowful that I never made that connection with my friend on this side of eternity. It grieves me that I can view another and treat them as having some sort of “spiritual leprosy,” and fail them in fellowship because of my lack of love. I suspect that on the other side of the veil my friend and I will have a discussion or two about this topic. I commit myself anew, and submit this to my Lord as well. I will strive to never let this happen again in this life. I will not let any “barrier” keep me separated from a relationship with another human being. If there is resistance, it will have to be on their part, not mine.

Thoreau postulated that, “To regret deeply is to live afresh.”

C. Klingle