“God loves them, too.”

I’ve started reading (and loving) the blog Seraphic Singles. Interesting choice, seeing as I started reading it just as I am about to stop being one. But I can’t resist the writing. It is snappy, clever, loving, and unapologetic. She has beliefs that she does not back down from. It’s very refreshing.

She writes about all kinds of things, and occasionally responds to letters from her readers as “Auntie Seraphic”. She often coaches her female readership that, when annoyed with the male species, to spend a day or two or three, looking at every man you encounter and saying to yourself about each one, “Bless his little heart.” The principle being that repeated well-wishings of good to your neighbour makes you actually start feeling that way. Lead with your head and the heart will follow.

That phrase hasn’t worked for me for a couple of reasons.

First, when she says it, it sounds like a loving, motherly phrase, but whenever I hear myself saying it, it sounds like I’m being condescending. As the effort is in order to respect and love your fellows, feeling condescending is not a step in the right direction.

Also, I’m feeling the need to bless more than just the male half of the population.

I have become very critical recently. (I would define “recently” as the past several months– perhaps longer.)

It started off innocently enough. The driving quirks of the town I’m currently living in are very different than the quirks of the town I used to live in. It would baffle, confuse and frustrate me, and to let off steam, I would playfully snarl against the other drivers, primarily to amuse myself and the other passengers in my car.

I’m not sure when it happened, but I’ve come to realize that the little snarls and snippy comments made about other people (no matter how anonymous) were slowly stripping away at myself and my ability to love other people. I found myself, not too long ago, snarling at other drivers with actual menace and frustration. Thankfully, other drivers cannot hear me, but I would be ashamed to know that any of them have seen the expression on my face.

On the one hand, I have a right to it. There are some people on the road who are jerks, plain and simple. But on the other hand… God loves them, too.

There’s a Jars of Clay song that I love, called There is a River. One part of it goes,

So, give up the right
To control the waves that empty out your life.
Above wild skies
Are the rays that break the shadows we design.
Give it up, let go
These are things you were never meant to shoulder.

The River in the title is referring to Jesus Christ.

It is the first line of that excerpt that gets me. “Give up the right.”

It is my right to be angry at the people who cut me off and bully me on the highway. But when I think that God loves them, too, my anger melts.

When I say, “God loves them, too”, I don’t mean it condescendingly or judgementally. When I say, “God loves them, too”, I mean, God loves them in the way He loves me. I am precious to Him. I am so precious to Him that He would, and has!, died for me. And He loves me even when I do things that are not worthy of His love (like snarl at and criticize other people). And if God loves me the same way that He loves everyone else on the planet… then everyone I encounter is precious to Him. And everyone I encounter is so precious to Him that He would (and has!) died for them. And He loves them, even when they do things that are not worthy of His love.

When you love someone, you tend to want to please them. And when you love someone, you tend to want to love the things and people they love. So if I love God and He loves everyone, shouldn’t I try to love them, too? For me, the antidote to my critical attitude is stopping myself by saying, “God loves them, too.” And, by the power of His Spirit, I start wondering what the person’s story is, and what their motivations are. And then I begin to empathize with them, and, strangely, miraculously enough, I begin to love them.

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