13 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.
3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
4 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;
7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.
9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.
10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.
This is all that Jesus asks of us. The King of the world and everything beyond the world, Who is huge and mighty and powerful, Who came to earth in the semblance of a man, Who was beaten and insulted at the hands of those so puny that He could have destroyed them all with a snap of His fingers, Whose bleeding body was nailed to a cross and left there to die by inches, Who suffered and strove, Who died and rose again… He loves us with a perfect love, and all that He asks in return is simply that we love, too.
Is that really so grievous a commandment? Is it really so hard to love Him and to love others? Is it such a great trial for the unbeliever to believe, for the hater to love, for the proud to adore?
My God, my Father, my Good Shepherd, my Shield, my Prince on a white horse, my Lord the King, my Jesus… pour Your love into me, that it might pour out into others. Let me love You will all my heart and all my strength and all my mind and all my spirit. Make me Yours, Sir. Let me love, Sir!
My mom took this picture of Skye and I on Christmas Day. It was Jesus’s birthday and we were working and celebrating. This photo means love to me because it is said that there is no secret so close as that between a rider and a horse; and Skye and I know all about that secret. After eight years together, having started to grow up together, we’re pretty close.
And, of course, there is a third Person in this picture that no one can really see; but He’s there because He’s always there. He loves me or He would never have given me Skye, and He loves Skye because by the laws of nature she should have died of African Horse Sickness in 2011. It’s been almost two years now, and she is healthier and happier and more explosively spirited than ever.
Praise the Lord. I love You, Sir.