students of jesus

My love has limits. On my best days, when my heart is free from cloud or stain, the well of my love is so shallow you can see the bottom. It has nothing to do with selfishness or sin; it has everything to do with the finite limits of my body, soul, and spirit. I only have so much to give.

Yet this is only half the bad news: I have a thirst that is never quenched, without limit in this present age and perhaps in the age to come as well. This well has no bottom. My mouth and lips are dry, my soul is a sponge never saturated. I cry out for acceptance again and again; there never seems to be enough. Who has the capacity to give and give and give? Who can fill me up?

Don’t rush. We’ll hurt ourselves if we jump to the answer too quickly. The Sunday-school response may well be correct, but the child who speaks the words may have no idea what she says. Of course we need Jesus, but what if we fail to understand the need? What newborn understands the arms that welcome him?

Even the best human love is bounded by weakness and ignorance. My heart may be perfect toward my children, but I don’t have the strength and wisdom to deliver everything they need. In 30 years of marriage my wife as discovered nearly every flaw in her husband. She has discovered I am not (and should not be) her source. On its best days, my love cannot reach beyond the span of my arms. She needs something more than I can give, and in her wisdom sees the limits of my love. Instead of drawing from the well of my soul, she kneels at the river of life, the flow of endless supply. Then she can accept my meager gifts based not upon her need, but her gratitude.

Still, there is a part of me that seems infinite. I tilt my head forward to hear the praise of men. I crave the acceptance of others the way a singer sells the end of a song. The applause dies and I am hungry again. Like John D. Rockefeller I will always need “Just a little more.” Like Bob Wiley I beg my therapist, “I need, I need! I want, I want!” No amount of affirmation can fill my heart but I continue to plead. I’ve turned to the wells of other men to supply my need. I carry my pail from shallow well to shallow well. Just beyond the village of wells is the river of life, safe enough I can wade and swim. I can leave the bucket behind.

When I see these two needs for what they are, I begin to find strength to love and freedom to receive from a source beyond the things of man.

Jesus waited until the great feast in Jerusalem was drawing to its close: 

“On the last and greatest day of the Feast, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, ‘If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink . . .”

Feasts always come to an end. The wedding party always runs out of wine. But we can return home ever-full:

“Whoever believes in me in me (as the Scripture said), streams of living water will flow from within him.”

In one act God fills my need for acceptance and provides the strength for me to love beyond my own strength. The flow that slakes my thirst is the flow that supplies the others in my life.

What I give to others must come from beyond myself. What I need most others cannot give. When I know the limits of my love I will seek the love without limits.