To Obey and to Love

October 2009

During worship in this contemplative environment, I often feel the desire to be a more obedient Christian. I make mental promises: I will try harder and do better. But when I leave the comfort of the church on Sunday, there is little that reminds me of those promises Monday through Saturday.

The world outside the sanctuary makes me realize that obedience to my faith must come from me, not from a place. I’m not being hard on myself. I believe the good I do outweighs the bad. Yet I also believe that “good enough” seldom is. Obedience to God requires one thing: love, perhaps the most difficult task we face.

We know Christ told us to love. But do we really understand what Jesus meant when he said, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second [commandment] is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these” (Mark 12:30-31)?

That commandment is uncompromising. Jesus didn’t say, “Love the people you get along with. Love the people who make you feel comfortable. Love those who look and talk like you. You don’t have to love the ones who don’t look and talk like you, but you do have to tolerate them. You have to give stuff to the people who don’t have as much as you, but it’s okay to keep them at arm’s length.”

I know Jesus wouldn’t say that, but sometimes I falter. Obedience often seems unattainable. I have received the gift of grace—unworthy as I am—and Christ made clear his expectations for those who follow him.

God first loved us

Shame, embarrassment, rejection—these are the feelings that keep me from loving others the way Jesus commands. To remind myself, I often think about a song I learned when I was very young. The only words are, “We love, because God first loved us.”

The words “we love” are repeated three times. As a child, I joyfully shouted out the song. As an adult, I wonder if the song’s composer repeated “we love” because it’s human nature to forget the tenets of our faith: To believe is to obey; to obey is to love; to love is to serve.

It seems easy enough in the abstract. But when I face my neighbor, known or unknown, love becomes complicated. I want to obey and to love others—if God will just let me decide what it means to love fully and openly. Through prejudgments, rationalizations, and qualifications, I will usually try to redefine the conditions of the unconditional love.

I don’t want to be this way. I want to be more like Jesus. But I am quick to excuse my own transgressions, telling myself that I am only human. But would Jesus accept my excuses? Would he tell me, “It’s okay that you did not show that person love; she was closed off to you, and you’re only human”? In my heart, I know the answer.

Learning from global sisters

In November 2008, I participated in a Women of the ELCA and ELCA Global Mission study seminar that traveled throughout rural and urban areas in South Africa. Before and during the seminar, we studied, attended lectures, and had in-depth discussions. We focused on common issues that affect young women around the world: poverty, racism, inequality, educational disparities, and the HIV and AIDS pandemic.

This study seminar drew together nine young women from across the United States and 12 from the sub-Saharan African countries of Malawi, Zimbabwe, Namibia, Botswana, South Africa, and Zambia. We visited churches, seminaries, schools, museums, governmental agencies, and nonprofit organizations. We were challenged, engaged, and transformed.

By chance, I attended only Zulu-language worship services while I was in South Africa. I do not speak the language, but I learned valuable lessons anyway. Chief among these was that North American Lutherans have much more to learn from African Lutherans than we have to teach or give them.

This was hard for me to take in. We in the United States tend to pity Africans because of what we perceive as their lack of material comforts. We do not always realize we meet these sisters as equals in terms of abilities, intelligence, and personal resources. We have it in our minds that we can help them; it doesn’t occur to us that they can help us, too.

When I went into those South African churches, I realized how arrogant and sinful it is to pity those who have less money, status, or sociopolitical power. Pity is not love or respect. Our African sisters lead rich, fulfilling lives and do not dwell on what material items they lack. They celebrate the joy of loving faithfulness to the Gospel.

Welcoming strangers

At the South African churches we visited, most members took active roles in congregational leadership. Worship is important to them not because of centuries of tradition, but because of their understanding of the faith. I admit that that is not always my own motivation when I make my way to church.

Members of these churches traveled to worship—usually on foot—through rough conditions. Many took turns directing some part of the service, joining other members in leading through Scripture, prayer, and music.

A significant part of these services was devoted to welcoming strangers. We visitors were expected to introduce ourselves and share something about ourselves. It did not matter that we only spoke English and that we did not look or live like them. They were elated to greet us and other visitors, putting me in mind of Hebrews 13:2: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some people have entertained angels without knowing it.”

To obey the commandment to love one another is to push ourselves to do something extraordinary. In South Africa, I met women from the United States and sub-Saharan Africa who do this. They live their faith. They don’t put it on hold until certain criteria are met and the proper forms are filled out. They live a faith that calls them to account, and they actively work to keep those accounts current. They understand the meaning behind those stories about Jesus. As I continue in my journey, I strive to be more like those women.

To love one another

Sometimes I rationalize my missteps by putting myself outside the biblical world of the Gospels. Those stories take place in a context different from my own, when the known world was relatively small and sparsely populated. My world is big and crowded. It can be dangerous, divided, and hyper-political. The neighbor we are called to love may not know Christ or be much like us. We wonder how to fight problems like poverty, war, disease, discrimination, and other forms of inequality. Where do we begin? Perhaps we believe there isn’t anything we can do, that the world will always be this way.

But it will not be; we cannot let it. The gospel of Jesus Christ is constant and true and it has never been more urgently needed. Our faith guides us to reach out to the stranger in the midst of a disaster, stand up to injustice that we think is none of our business, and fix problems that others think can wait.

To be faithful is to be obedient. To be obedient is to try even when we know we might fail. To be obedient is to keep trying.

Perhaps it was easier for Jesus’ contemporaries to be obedient. Jesus was right there. The disciples walked, talked, ate, and lived with him. They believed, with the added benefit of actually seeing him. They watched Jesus perform miracles, talk with those whom society had cast off, and reject social and religious conventions. To be with him, to walk with him, must have been amazing.

If that’s true, then why do the Gospels sometimes read like a running account of “Jesus vs. the Apostles”? Why did even Jesus’ inner circle have such a hard time letting go? Why did they argue with him? Why would they want to?

Today I hear the New Testament stories and shake my head as Thomas doubts, Peter denies, and the rest try to contradict Jesus’ commands at one time or another. I realize I am no different.

They were like us, not like him. And like us, they were trying to be better. In spite of our failings, Jesus loves us completely and unconditionally. He sets an example. Realistically, we know that we cannot always be like him, but we must try.

To obey, we must fight our inclinations to second-guess—to believe we know better. We must cherish the Good News as a vital, powerful message, not as mere words from long ago. We must obey its call to love one another as Jesus taught us.

Karris Golden is a member of Trinity American Lutheran Church in Waterloo, Iowa. She is a regular contributor to Lutheran Woman Today, Café: Stirring the Spirit Within, and The Lutheran magazine.