Greater Love

My new friend David suggested that I might work on loving myself a bit more-- "unconditionally" was his word. He has this lovely idea that God wants me to give myself the same kind of love that He gives me and that He flows through me to my children, a "just as you are"-type love. And this really got me thinking.

Now to be honest, the first thing it made me think was of the Divinyls' song "I Touch Myself." You know the lyrics-- "I love myself, I want you to love me." And of course then I had the damn song stuck in my head all afternoon. But it also made me think of how maybe I do think of loving myself as something secretive, something that I'm probably not really supposed to do. And I started to have this icky little feeling, one that's usually better just shoved down, that whispered to me in a little serpent voice, "Maybe that's because you don't deserve to be loved."

But I've hung around Jesus long enough to know that that little voice was full of shit. Jesus once told his friends, "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." And so I had to tell that little voice where it could go, because if the God of the universe thinks I'm worth dying for-- if He thinks I deserve that kind of love-- then that's about all the evidence I need.

As David pointed out, I am aware of myself. And this typically leads me in one of two equally damaging directions: either toward thinking too little of myself or thinking too highly of myself (but either way, thinking too much of myself). And when I catch myself going down either road, I have to pivot and focus on God instead because when I manage to remember to do that, I shrink in comparison.

And I can just see sweet David sitting there, reading this now and shaking his head, thinking, "See what I mean? You aren't loving yourself unconditionally!" And I don't want to put words in his mouth, but what I think he may mean-- what I think most people mean when they talk about loving yourself unconditionally-- is not finding fault with yourself.

But here's the thing: I know myself too well to not find fault. And really, I don't think it would be loving to ignore it. I love my kids more than the very breath of life, but when they start running around acting like assholes, I call them on it. And it's not because I don't love them; it's because I so desperately do. It's like that old saying, "God loves you the way you are, but He loves you too much to leave you that way."

I very much believe you can love the sinner without loving the sin. And so if the suggestion is to love all the dark and ugly things about myself, then I will politely decline. Because I love myself too much for that-- I want to get well, not to coddle the illness.

I like the idea that loving ourselves unconditionally means giving ourselves the same kind of love that God gives to us. But when I think back to what Jesus said about love being a laying down of life, I realize just how hard this proposition will be. Yes, God's love is free, unearned, and unshakeable. But it also comes with penalty of death. Jesus didn't just get to float around earth, gently bopping people on the head with love like fairy dust sprinkling from His magic wand. To give us His love, He had to die a gruesome, excruciating death, and His soul, which had been woven together with His Father's since eternity past, was rent, searing, apart.

So I realize that if I'm going to love myself as God loves me, I'm going to have to die a little each day. I'm going to have to lay down my self-centeredness, my temper, my ugly thoughts. And I know I will never get there, not in this life, and that's okay. It's enough that I will be working on it, giving myself this greater love, because one look at the cross tells me I've already got it.