"And I remember what Susan said/ How Love is found in the things we've given up/ more than in the things that we have kept."
From Rich Mullins' song "What Susan Said," these words rang true to me in a moment of clarity. If love is demonstrated at its finest in sacrifice, that coincides with the Biblical truths that "greater love has no man that this, that he lay down his life for his friend." Giving up your life is a testimony of love unparalleled in high-faluttin' words or dramatic gestures. However, the vast majority of us won't be required to embrace physical death to prove our love for Jesus or anyone else.
It strikes me that in some ways, a life of sacrifice is a more demanding testimony of love than dying would be. The life of sacrifice, of being willing to give things up for others, isn't a physical event as much as it is a stance, a way of dealing with the world. To wilingly humble yourself before others, to allow others to have control, to be gentle and kind without taking any other pleasure and satisfaction than the knowledge that you are pleasing the Lord, this is life lived in sacrifice. And while the ending of your life is no small matter, the sacrifice is a single event. True, it has a profound impact on the future by basically giving it up entirely, but it's easier in some ways to make one decision to do one thing at one moment in time than it is to do it many times a day every day for the rest of your life. That is why the Lord delights in our daily sacrifices as much as a martyr's. One isn't better than the other, just different. The sacrifices are different, demanding different surrenders from each.
All of this is to remind us of the Lord's pleasure and approval of our sacrifices, whether we let a car merge onto the highway in front of us, or let our coworker have the last cup of coffee thus making us brew another batch, or letting our spouse watch their favorite program instead of insisiting on watching ours. Done with the mindset of Jesus, this is our spiritual and physical act of worship. As another line of Mullins' song states, "It's the love of Jesus puttin' on flesh and bone." And not incidentally, the mindset of Jesus will facillitate this process immeasurably.
I found this concept to be particularly powerful because over the years I have lost a lot of things; small things, to be sure, but accumulated they amount to a not insignificant loss, and the lessons they have taught my heart, the lies that have taken root there, need to be excised. One example is the various friends I have made over the years. Not the most social of people at my best, I prefer a small tight-knit group to a large number of friends I barely know beyond acquaintances. And it takes a while to reveal myself enough to begin to develop friendship. So when I make a friend, when I begin to develop that intimacy and comfort level with them, my instinct is to tighten my grip on them, to eschew making new friends and concentrate on the ones I've made. And they have all moved on with their lives, marrying and moving away. A natural part of the transitory nature of life, you say, and you wouldn't be wrong. "It's a fool who looks for logic in the affairs of the heart," Ulysses Everret McGill wisely stated. I don't pretend my rationale makes sense, but a deep sense of longing has dogged me for sometime now. Longing for friends and companions that won't abandon me (as I perceive the past friends I have had to have done, even if it isn't true).
And the Lord has been working on me to teach me to have open hands. To give up things I love instead of trying to hoard them and control them. Which ironically is the exact opposite way to deepen a relationship and to make new ones, thus explaining why I'm bad at it. I doubt that this concept is unique to Rich Mullins' song, but it crystalized it for me, especially with all the references of friends: Abbott and Costello, Paul & Silas, Wally & the Beaver, David and Jonathan. But the point of the song is that he and his friend are going to bring the Gospel to lost children, and struggling with their own inadequecies. Even in the midst of their insecurities, they come to the above realization, and the chorus (and song) conclude with the phrase "I hope that you remember/ I'm still your friend," a kind reminder that the act of friendship and love is giving of themselves to each other and to others and that doing so does not cancel out friendship, that no matter what situations arise or depressing thoughts persist, their friendship will remain. A good thought to end on.
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