He saw her across the dimly lit restaurant. He hadn’t seen her in over a year. Last year, they shared a first grade classroom. Today, they shared only vague remembrances of one another. He’s stayed put. She’s moved on to another school.
After brief words of conversation with her family, we made our way back to the table. My eight year old son gave his best efforts at coloring the sombrero on his children’s menu and then hand delivered his gift to his friend. Moments later, she responded by doing the same. Back and forth, waves and glances, until the hour was complete, and we said our good-byes.
On the way out to our car, my son shared his thoughts with me.
“Mom, you know I kind of like that girl.”
“Son, you haven’t seen that girl in over a year, and you didn’t even remember her name. I think you’re confused.”
“No, mom, I really do like that girl.”
“How can that be, son? You’ve never even talked about her before.”
“Mom, I know when I like somebody. I’ve had love before.”
“Really? When?”
“In K4.”
And with that proclamation, the conversation ended and the contemplation began.
I’ve had love before … in K4.
What my son was saying was that this “inkling” that he felt … this notion of emotion … wasn’t the usual everyday kind of love that he carried for his friends. This was a different kind of love. A love that tugs deeper, breathes bolder, and speaks its insistence over top of the others. An unfolding type of love that, when “presented” to a heart, calls for its notice.
Jadon noticed, and tonight he has me wondering if I do the same—
Notice love when love comes knocking.
The disciples didn’t notice Love’s knocking … not at first. The confusion resulting from competing stories about his death and their hopes deferred in keeping with that death, kept their hearts at a distance; the sea was deep enough to hold their uncertainty and wide enough to harbor Love’s recognition at bay.
But then Love called, offering an invitation of familiarity—a common conversation that collided with past remembrances. Something about catching fish and casting nets and the “right” side of a boat. And with that summons and subsequent obedience, Love struck a chord deep within their hearts, calling forth a recognizable “inkling” that beckoned them shoreward to share in a meal and to bask in a few moments of tender reunion.
The gathering would be brief, but it would be more than enough time to amply seed them with the truth of Love’s embrace—a three-fold asking, a three-fold response, and a three-fold commissioning to go and to feed the Father’ sheep out of the overflow of Love’s consumption. That was the heart of the matter on a day set aside for God’s presenting Love.
When the disciples walked away from the shore’s table, they knew they had tasted Love. Why? Because like my son, they’d known Love before. They shared a classroom with him in an earlier season. He had been their teacher; they had been his willing pupils, and in the end, the kingdom of God was best served by the sacred collision of their hearts with his.
Thus, a question a two for your heart this night.
Do you notice Love when Love comes knocking? When was the last time that Love stopped your heart in its tracks and forced your perception? If Love were sitting across from you in a dimly lit restaurant, would you feel his pull and look up from your table to search out Love’s glance? Would you color Love a picture? Would you then deliver it in hopes of receiving Love back?
Or has your love for Love grown cold, distant and harboring within the waters of an uncertain tomorrow? Have you given up on Love’s embrace? Have you forgotten the sound of Love’s beckoning call? Has life hammered its cruelty so loudly that you are deafened and blinded by the truth of Love’s approach?
It’s easy to miss Love, especially when our hearts are prone to a constant wandering. If we choose the world’s classroom over God’s classroom, then we choose our handicap. Love is always presenting himself … always passing our way … always sending his notes of affection to our tables. But if we haven’t logged in some hours under his tutelage, rarely will he garner our notice. Instead, we offer him our neglect, leaving the table with but a whisper of a vague recognition that was always meant to last longer.
We could leave better, friends. God intends for us to leave with a heart full of Love’s recollection. With a pulse that shouts,
“I’ve been with Love today because I’ve known Love before.”
That is the heart of the matter for our everyday … noticing Love when Love comes knocking because Love has been our companion all along.
My prayer for your life and mine is for a blatant and sacred intersection between Love’s heart and ours. I pray for eyes to see him when he walks in a room. I pray for hearts to receive him when he knocks at the door. I pray for ears to hear him when he calls from the shore. And I pray for the “yes” to answer him when he asks for our more.
May the holy and gracious presenting Love of a Father’s heart be your portion as you walk this week. It is his joy to give you the abiding truth and fellowship of heaven’s native Son. As always,
Copyright © May 2009 – Elaine Olsen
PS: If you want to spend some more time in God’s classroom via a long ago breakfast on the shores of Galilee, then hop over to John 21 and let the truth of that moment be the truth of your moment with Jesus today. The winner of Kennisha Hill’s “Simply Wisdom” is Joye at The Joyeful Journey. Congrats, Joye. Please send me your snail mail via my email, and I will send you Kennisha’s book. Shalom.
In 1957, my mom walked across the stage of Bob Jones University and received her degree in “home economics.” You heard me … “home economics.” She would later go on to share her wealth of wisdom with less than appreciative junior high and high school students. She wouldn’t teach long, at least not within the walls of a school building.