Today as I was responding to an email from a friend I signed, “Love, Amy” and then I thought, “How often do I use the word love,” and reflected with great joy that I do use it often. A while ago, after considering how brief life can be, I decided to tell my friends I love them when we separate because I don’t know if I will see them again. I want them to remember that I loved them dearly long after I am gone.
I was not raised in a family who told each other we were loved. I cannot remember either my mother or father ever telling me they loved me. It was a word that was not given freely in our home. It isn’t that I didn’t feel their care, but I did not hear the word love spoken. I even questioned as a child if I knew what true love was. I can remember a household pet dying after being hit by a car and I was not sad, which caused me to wonder what exactly was love.
This behavior came down to me through at least one generation, as I know that my mother and her brother finally, late in life through the use of humor, were able to end every phone call with each saying they loved the other. I believe these exchanges started after my aunt died, and the two surviving siblings discussed that they had loved her deeply but had never told her, and so they started intentionally telling each other of their love.
I did not reach that point early in life either. The question was always in my mind about what exactly is love. Not romantic love but love for another human – pure, sweet love for another. I did not understand it.
When I asked Jesus to be my Savior in high school I was not exactly clear on what to expect, but I knew very well that I needed the love and forgiveness of Jesus even if I didn’t really understand what that love was. As I went into my 20s and wavered back and forth in my faithfulness and unfaithfulness and disobedience, I still craved knowing Jesus’ true and forgiving love.
At some point in my 30s I became overwhelmed with the pressure of running my own life. I realized I was making a mess of it and I was neither pleasing myself nor Jesus. After much prayer, weeping and pleading with Jesus for help He granted me the understanding that I needed to make a commitment to following Him – it wasn’t enough that I asked Jesus to be my Savior if my intent was to remain disobedient – I needed Him to be Lord of my life and in charge of all my decisions. And that is when I found out what true love is.
For the first time ever I could share my deepest feelings with the One I loved above everyone and everything. Over time I learned even more of what true love is as the Lord shared with me the fruits of the Holy Spirit, “. . . love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” When the Holy Spirit gave me these gifts, I treasured them as proof of my true love for my Savoir and His true love for me.
Prior to this heartfelt commitment I could not truly love anyone because I did not know what love was. I had no understanding of the depth and width of the love of my Lord until His Spirit filled my soul.
Jesus told His disciples, “Greater love has no one than this, that a person will lay down his life for his friends.” Jesus did this for me. He laid down His life so that I might live with Him forever beginning that very moment I made that commitment to follow Him and asked Him to be Lord of my life. This is such a great and precious love that I pray often for many of my family and friends to know and enjoy this marvelous love and the tremendous peace it brings.
Now, my answer to world problems is “Knowing Jesus!” If hearts around the world would return to the way we were created – knowing and loving our creator God with all our heart – what peace would fill our souls.
Jesus warned us the prince of this world is Satan, and he is the father of lies. Sadly, until Jesus returns there are many of us who will listen to the wrong voice – the father of lies – just as I did to follow my own desires. That is why those who love Jesus feel compelled to share our stories with others. There is no greater love.
Editor’s note: Amy Patsch writes from Ocean City. Email her at writerGoodGod@gmail.com.
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