peace . love . joy

A few months ago, I was struggling with this very question Jesus asked Simon Peter, son of Jonas: "Lovest thou me?"

My instinctive reaction is to boldly and profusely declare a solid affirmation to the inquiry, to profess my feelings of undying love to my God, to want to break out in song and dance, to want to put my hand to the piano, to the canvas, to the paper and worship Him as best I know how and can. Wouldn't you?

That question, "Lovest thou me?", however, remained in my subconscious for quite a while, popping in every now and then to repeatedly articulate itself and remind me of its presence. The more that happened, the more I grew uncomfortable.

Do I really love God?
If I do, do my actions, every single one of them from my subconscious unvoluntary breathing down to my conscious and voluntary behavior, betray my love for Him?
If I sin, if that sin is not a new one but an old fiend, does it mean I love God any less?
Does it mean my love is an illusion, that I'm only kidding myself, that I don't really love Him?

And that's when I realised the starkness of Jesus' pointed question: "Lovest thou me?"

I may be telling the truth as best I knew it then, saying again and again that I love the Lord, saying it just as any one of us would to a good person whom we know, to a person whom we are fond of. The way we say "I love you, mummy" or "I love my boyfriend" is most likely precisely the manner in which Peter had fool-hardily sworn before, saying "though they all fall away because of you, I will never fall away... Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you!" (Matthew 26:30-35) But this is merely φιλέω (phileō): to be a friend to; to be fond of; to have affection for [something or someone].

And, as Oswald Chambers noted, though such emotion may be powerful, indeed so much that it may penetrate into our "natural selves", it is not where Jesus intends for us to remain when the object of our feelings is Him.

You see, True Love never simply announces itself:
"Also I say unto you, Whosoever shall confess me before men, him shall the Son of man also confess before the angels of God" (Luke 12:8)
To "confess" is to ὁμολογέω (homologeō). This Greek word is the compound of two others, ὁμοῦ (homou) which means together, and λόγος (logos) which means to say or communicate; to be the doctrine of; to shew. "Shew" is a verb, an action word meaning to prove; demonstrate; show; establish the validity of something, as by an example, explanation or experiment.

This love of ours must evolve from and yet retain innocent and child-like elements of phileō, to include ἀγαπάω (agapaō), to love in a social and moral sense. Where phileō is the love that chiefly resides in the heart, agapaō is the love that chiefly resides in the head.

This is where the Lord intends for us to pursue, the sort of love that He first showed us is the love that He demands in return.

To confess, to homologeō our love for Him requires more than songs, than paintings, than dance, than teaching, than smiling, than greeting, than studying... It is more than mere displays of phileō; it begs homologeō, it begs understanding, comprehension, embodiment.

This sort of love, the one that Jesus asks Peter the first two times He articulates His question, the agapaō kind, is the kind that penetrates not just until our "natural selves", but into the deep recesses of our spirits.

This brand of love can only be attained, be discovered when we truly understand Jesus' "Lovest thou me?".

It is a question full of hope... And full of pain.

See, with that question, every deception, every little thing uttered willy-nilly, every action, every step, every breath, every heart is exposed and weighed. Whoever said the Word of God never hurts God's people, never hurts Christians? Afterall, "the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart" (Hebrews 4:12). The Bible never did say that it is a sword that only cuts through unbelievers, that cuts through evil alone; so what makes us think that it doesn't cut through us, Christians, too, for are we not also sinners?

Every time we sin, it gets easier to sin again because we slip into deception and lies and foolishness, because our senses are dulled and muted, the hurt and struggle and pain and guilt become less and less until we forget they were even there to begin with.
But one word, one question from the mouth of God is enough to wrench our hearts, to throw us to the ground, to bleed us dry: "Lovest thou me?"

I have experienced that barren and plain hurt inflicted by Jesus' three-worded question. It is a pain that no language can utter and no mind conceive unless experienced first-hand, because it is one that spreads like an angry and wild fire to the farthest corners of my being, body, mind and soul.

When God asks us "Lovest thou me?", it is impossible to formulate any reply because everything is laid bare before our waking eye, everything that brings Him joy together with everything that causes Him hurt, everything we have performed in accordance to His Will together with everything we have committed out of His Will. And that knowledge of causing God pain really is so much, too much to bear.

But we bear it, nail our iniquities and sins to the cross and carry it on our backs because we trust & hope. We trust in the Lord's promise of forgiveness, trust in His nature, trust in Jesus' paid ransom for our souls, and hope for a better tomorrow, hope to continue walking in the Light of God, hope to become more and more Christ-like, and hope to bring Him greater joy - for that is why we exist, is it not?

"Lovest thou me?", asks Jesus.