By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another (Jesus of Nazareth: John 13:35)
I hear it frequently–that familiar sardonic spirit, wafting its way through so many passing remarks about our collective humanity, especially from within Christian circles…
“What did you expect? It was his human nature–he just couldn’t control himself.”
“Humans are so messed up. Put us to the test and we’ll eventually show what we’re really made of.”
“She was just being human when she lied”
“My humanity keeps getting in the way of my good intentions.”
My humanity gets in the way? Hmm. Such sentiments are so pervasive that we become inoculated against any awareness of their real impact. Like secondhand smoke, we unwittingly breathe in their poison, which takes hold in the vital faculties of our minds. Sentiments like these result in a costly and collective lean in the direction of despisal; despisal of our nature, of our essence. So many of us have learned in our various cultures and traditions to mistakenly bemoan what we are (human), rather than what we’ve become (broken). We even imply these things in the presence of our precious children, who have yet to be disabused of their inclination to delight in one another–they’re even so blind that they delight in themselves. Have you noticed that? What audacity…
Contrary to this tacit force in the worldview of so many, the Bible presents a vastly different perspective in its first proclamation regarding what we humans are in our bones: “Very good” is the stark and resolute accusation it casts upon us. I’m serious. Go ahead and read the opening stanzas–you’ll see for yourself. You’ll find those very words pulsating there in all of their vibrant wonder–God’s words, spoken with a happy–yes, happy–smile; His eternal reminder, just in case we forget. “Very good.” He makes the claim just after informing us that He created us in His image…
That’s you, my friend. I’ve seen your humanity, and I have to agree with The Maestro regarding His thoughts about you. Let me explain:
Tragedy has recently visited our family. Through no intention of any person–no broken will or malformed character–our youngest daughter, Georgia, in an otherwise benign instance, had sight suddenly stolen from her right eye. From that very moment–literally, as soon as the first words came to the ears of…humans–the outpouring of relentless goodness, of courageous generosity and love, has not ceased to come to Georgia and to our family. In our distress–much of the time, our surprising agony–we have been carried along by the lovely and the loving. In our beloved community of Sandy Hill, so many mothers and fathers, neighbors and teachers, principals and police officers, whose dear friend, Kandy–that daily beacon of joy and hope to so many–is crestfallen, have declared to her “We love you and your family.” through their shared tears, warm embraces, compassionate glances and relentless queries regarding how they might care for our children. And our loving community at Highland Community Church, who have persisted with up-to-the-moment concern and interest–a thousand texts, from all of you, not simply “checking in”, but ardently requesting, “May I help you?” and insisting, “My resources are yours–please tell me what I can do.” And food. Holy smokes. From neighbors and church members, from colleagues and friends along the way. Love-via-casserole and Nando’s, and chili and… delicious Mennonite dishes that we can’t pronounce to save our lives. Who knew? Our fridge, our freezer and our stomachs, are filled with the fruit of tangible care–nourished in body and nourished in soul–bestowed upon us by humans. We have been visited by sojourners at Vancouver Children’s, whose love can be measured in miles-traveled, time-spent and tears shed, and we have been blessed by family, both in Canada and abroad, with prayers and with words of hope and encouragement. And my clients–hundreds of individuals, by whom I have been enlisted and entrusted to serve and to love–have not ceased with their expressions of sorrow and authentic regard for our little one whom they’ve never met. The many staff at Vancouver Children’s–from Diane, the custodian who daily and diligently cleaned Georgia’s room, bringing merry conversation to lighten our load, to the angels that we afford the title ‘nurse’, who so tenderly set their sights on healing our child; from the gentle surgeon, whose heart breaks for the little doll upon whose soul-windows he must operate, to the gentle-man who runs the invaluable valet parking for parents of unwell children. And then there’s the host of you; you, whom we have never met. We have learned through friends that you–so many of you–are praying for our Georgia and for us as we learn how to love each other through this difficult time. On and on, the truth about your nature betrays you all. Despite those claims to the contrary, you’re good.
I know of only one place in the entire Bible where Jesus definitively speaks to the matter of who His disciples–His students, or apprentices–are. The people nearest to Jesus at the time were awfully fastidious about this matter; fastidious in ways that seemed, often, to pain Him. My bet is that many of you have noticed this as a trend that has yet to be curtailed in our own time. Like the polarized masses who followed Jesus around in His day, we scramble to point fingers and chuck stones as quickly as our appendages will allow. Whistling in the dark, we dodge and turn in avoidance of the fractures in our own character. In His typical style, Jesus graciously draws our attention away from the noise of these frenzied, fearful allegations and debates, into the essence of the matter; into the essence of our humanity: “A new commandment I give you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” (Italics added)
If you’re like me, you may initially have a hard time reading these words. Perhaps they seem to you, trite, or irritatingly pithy. Upon a second or third, or thirtieth–I recommend the latter–glance, however, perhaps the case changes; perhaps it is revealed that Jesus requests everything of us in this single sentence. “Even as I have loved you…” Again, what those words might actually represent and require, I’ll leave to your discernment. I think it follows from other statements Jesus made, pertaining to matters that He was actually fastidious about–His claims that those who had seen Him had seen God, for example, or His relentless talk about it being a wise idea to learn and to live everything that He taught–that in Him we catch a glimpse of what it might actually mean to be fully human. I’ll leave the discernment of that matter to you also (these words are too heavy to write without qualifiers). And here’s where it gets interesting. If Jesus is the image of the invisible God, and if He is the exact representation of God’s nature (it says both these things in the Book; you’ll find these words in sub-sections called Colossians and Hebrews, respectively–check them out) and if I, as human, am created in God’s image, then here’s what I think I have to conclude: as I seek to love as He (fully human) loves, then I am actually beginning to fulfill, and not dispense of, my humanity. Maybe our children are on to something. Could it be that to love–not, to err–is human? I think if could be. Again, I’ll invite you to discern that matter for yourself–you get the drift.
To all of you, I and my family thank you. We thank you for sacrificing, each in your own way, whether in word or in deed, your time, your resources, your energy, your fear–to love. It’s been mighty human of you. And we love you in return.
Pete (on behalf of little Georgia and the rest of the White family)
PS: An update on Georgia’s second surgery will follow soon. For information on how all of this happened, please visit the Georgia’s Journey heading on the home page