It seems like nothing out of the ordinary.
- Write the words in a letter.
- Lick the envelope closed.
- Add a U.S. postal stamp.
But a walk to the mailbox is monumental when you’re sending your love.
Putting our heart into the world is risky. It makes us vulnerable. It opens us up to rejection in a way that feels dangerous.
We never know how our love will be received.
Will it be appreciated, as a valued letter to be treasured?
Or will it be dismissed, as unsolicited junk to be thrown in the trash?
We do it.
We take our chances and spread our love and pray for ripples to reach the right person in the right place at the right time.
Eventually we all do it. Risking to love is a process we trust again and again and again. From the first person to the last, we all sooner or later pull our heart out of our soul to lend to another body, and hope our heart finds its new home in gentle hands.
As Brian McLaren says,
“To trust in the process is another way of saying to trust in an intelligence wiser than current human intelligence, to trust in a love deeper than current expressions of human love, to trust in a desire stronger and wiser than current expressions of human desire.”
This dare to love—with no backup plan—is our act of faith, our test of courage, our practice of religion.
And then, in God’s fathomless goodness, maybe love will circle back around and return to us, completing the cycle.
I place the white envelope—my tangible trust—in the black mailbox. I raise the red flag to signal the mail carrier. Come pick up my heart today. Send it into the world.
It may be camouflaged as a simple letter in the mail. But it holds all my love. Handle with care.
Any time we share our heart, in whatever way we send it, is no ordinary thing.
Love is always extraordinary.
What daring act of love (and EVERY act of love is brave and generous and good) have you given or received lately?
- Romans 8:38 – Memory Verse for July 17-23, 2022
- Is This Your Work to Do?