An Ode to My Savior

The sweetest sounds of love have the most bitter taste of all.

It is exceedingly bitter. These words we utter out of love is the gall-sop that satiated the thirst of Love hanging on the cross as he poured himself for all of mankind. It is the same bitter gall that saturates our weak hearts of flesh to strengthen our will. Love is sweet, but this bitterness is the reminder of the stain of sin. That this love freely given which we freely receive came with a price. Still comes with a price.

He becomes the life, the anima, the resilience of a chronically breaking heart. But only if we allow him. His perfect love casts out all fear. He is the comfort of a harness to the bold mountain climber mounting the Everest, the Easter of the little paschal mystery we perpetually offer up at the Calvary in our hearts. He is the glory of the Third Day - the promise of Resurrection to our cursed death. He is how our hearts can remain open after being severely robbed, how our hearts can emerge after being swallowed by the darkness of the sea, and whole after having chiseled away slowly. He is what allows for necessary transubstantiations to take place in our lives – from brokenness to healing, labor to rest, despair to hope, fearful to faithful, and emptiness to love.

There is nothing to our name except for our power to say yes and the power to say no – which essentially are one in the same. Two sides of the same coin. The only thing we have to our name is our ability to accept or to reject the love of God. This decision determines everything we do in our lives.

Thus we must understand that the primordial act of love is to be free. It isn’t in understanding or even in agreeing with our beloved. It is in freely choosing the other and allowing them to freely choose you. Are we all so free or are we held back by pride and fear? Can we truly love without being truly free?

Love demands to be given and to be received. Love demands to see the whole, and not just parts. We must give and receive love. It demands our commitment to be wholly transparent. God does not give in doses, he fills. Such a love needs only a vessel with an opening the side of a mustard-seed, and it will fill. Let it be the cracks, the point of rupture, or a simple willingness to let him in.

I should be proud of how resilient my heart is, but since I do not consider this ability to remain and to be my own, I am humbled. I know I am only able to go through any of this with God’s own heart. With it, I love. With it, I forgive. With it, I heal. With it, I am.