The Longest Four-Letter Word

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1 John 3:1-3, 11-18

1 See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. 2 Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. 3 And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure.

11 For this is the message you have heard from the beginning, that we should love one another. 12 We must not be like Cain who was from the evil one and murdered his brother. And why did he murder him? Because his own deeds were evil and his brother’s righteous. 13 Do not be astonished, brothers and sisters, that the world hates you. 14 We know that we have passed from death to life because we love one another. Whoever does not love abides in death. 15 All who hate a brother or sister are murderers, and you know that murderers do not have eternal life abiding in them. 16 We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. 17 How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?

18 Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.

Sermon:  “The Longest Four-Letter Word”

I’ve had love on my mind lately.

Now, this isn’t because I happen to be engaged.  (Okay, this isn’t just because I happen to be engaged!)

I’ve had love on my mind because of a sermon idea I pulled out of that yellow box back in June.  It said, “God’s love is for all.”  And if I’m honest, I’ve put off this topic a little.  As simple and profound as it is, it’s actually hard to preach.

I think Frederick Buechner[1] captures why:
        “Love God.  We have heard the words so often that we no     

longer hear them.  They are too loud to hear, too big to take in.  We know the words so much by heart that we scarcely know them any longer as words spoken to the heart of a mystery beyond all knowing.  We take the words so much for granted that we hardly stop to wonder where they are seeking to take us.”

Love, though only four letters, is the longest word there is.  Because, within those four letters lies a depth and complexity we cannot fully fathom.  But still, without complete understanding, we can love.  This is God’s gift to us – not just that we are loved, but that we can.

The late great Robin Williams defined love for me as well as anyone could in the movie “Good Will Hunting.”  Williams plays therapist to a brilliant but troubled young man, played by Matt Damon.  Damon’s character is all Boston bravado and sarcasm, hiding behind his intellect to avoid any real emotional connection.  But his therapist sees right through it.  In a pivotal conversation, Williams says the following (I edited out the most colorful Boston words):

Sean: So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that.

You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help.

I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much.

Will had never dared to love anybody that much.  But I know you have.  I’ve seen it; I’ve heard it.  You’ve loved spouses through cancer, knowing that helping someone bathe is a million times more love-filled than anything Shakespeare came up with. 

You’ve loved children through divorces and heartbreak, knowing that you would take every ounce of their pain from them if only you could.

You’ve loved strangers through homelessness and illness, fearlessly bandaging a wound without a second thought.  You’ve loved one another, recognizing that inextricable bond between the heart and the stomach, sharing love in homemade bread and casseroles when life and death weighs on one of our own, and eating is the last thing on their mind. 

Why do we do this? Why do we risk loving one another?  Why do we believe God truly loves us all?

It’s spelled out very clearly in 1 John 3:14. 

We know that we have passed from death to life because we love one another.

We love, and receive love, because it is the very key to our survival.  It is the only thing that brings us back from death, to new, resurrected life.  Our money can’t do that.  Our property can’t do that.  Our pride can’t do that.  Our grit can’t do that.  Not even our beliefs can do that.

Only God’s love for us, a love so deeply woven into the love we receive from others it is one and the same, can bring us from death to life.  So, when we say, “God’s love is for all” it is not some liberal agenda or feel-good fantasy.

It is the gospel that will save the world.  It is the truth that will bring humanity from the brink of death – in terrorized Aleppo and Gazientep, in flooded Louisiana, in our own community where bullied kids return to school with fear in their hearts.  If God truly loves everyone, and it’s not just some pie-in-the-sky fairy tale, then we have to do something.

Again, 1 John chapter 3 makes it clear:

How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?  Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.

Words matter.  Speech matters.  Which is why I bother to get up here each week and preach.  But they will never matter as much as actually doing something.  Putting the truth of God’s love for all into concrete action.

Think back to a time you showed great love for someone you cared for.  When a spouse needed help getting up out of bed, did you just sit there across the room and say, “I love you!” without doing anything?  Of course not.  You helped.

When a child called you in a dark and desperate place, did you just tell them God loves them and hang up?  Of course not.  You listened, you sat with them, you comforted them and brought them grace, for as long as it took.

Let’s be real: it takes a lot of energy and time to love like this.  It’s so much easier to just say the words without doing anything.  But if we want to call ourselves Christians, followers of Jesus Christ, that is never an option for us.

Jesus didn’t just say, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.”  He did it.  He laid down his life for friend and enemy alike – for every single person in every single moment of the past and the future.  And then, proving what the love of God can really do, he took his life up again, raising all of our broken selves with him. 

If John 3:16 is true: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

Then 1 John 3:16 must also be true:  “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another.”

How are we laying down our lives for others?  How are we loving, not just in word and speech, but in truth and action?

In each encounter we have, we should be asking ourselves these questions:

Am I speaking and acting with love?

Am I putting someone else’s needs before my own?

Am I treating love as a limited commodity to buy and sell if it’s deserved, or as an endless well of God’s grace towards humanity?

Do I really believe God loves me?

Do I really believe God loves this person?

I’ll close today with a favorite line from a sermon I once heard by Northern Irish Presbyterian minister Rev. Godfrey Brown.  It was so simple and true I wrote it in my Bible right then, and have cherished it ever since. 

“Love is the most demanding experience in the world.”

And it’s worth everything we can give.  Amen.

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[1] Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark, Abington Press, 1973.