the dark side of love

Heb 12 is the passage.

When I was growing up, I ran. I ran all the time. I was a distance runner. I ran track. I ran cross country. I ran away from thugs and kids I pissed off. I competed in races. When Paul tells us we are in a race, I get it. I know what it is like to be on the back stretch and have the stands yelling and going crazy for you to win. I know what's like to see the finish line. I know what it is like to push hard at the end. But it isn't the end that makes the race hard. It isn't even the beginning, it is the middle.

When I would run the mile, a 4 lap race. The first lap was pretty easy. The second was just a way to hang on. The third lap was gut wrenching. It was where the winners started to make their move and see if they could change up the strategy. It was the hardest part of the race. The thought was simple, "Make it to the last lap." The fourth and final lap was all out war. You were giving it everything you had. The crowd was lifted, the end was in sight and you were just pushing till it was all gone.

Paul tells us that we have people in the stands and an example to follow. We have a goal in mind, Jesus. He even says how to run, get rid of sin. But just after talking about Jesus, he says that God hurts us.

We always equate love with nice, soft, sweet feelings. We call them blessings, health, promotions, healings, advancement, and more. We adore and worship the fluffy side of love. We see and adore one side of the love coin. We adore an idol we call God refusing to see and acknowledge the dark side of love.

Love hurts.

Can that be? It seems like such a contradiction. It seems that there cannot be pain in love. It seems that if God were on my side I would not experience pain, any and all kinds of pain. My kids question my love when it comes to discipline. They see pain as an act of aggression. They see pain as an act of selfishness. They see pain as an way for dad to get revenge when they do something wrong. My kids do not understand discipline. As much as I want to talk to them about it, pain is equal to anger, disappointment, and compliance. No matter the chats, hugs, or friendly smiles, in the end discipline hurts. And honestly it is only counter balanced by the affection, time, love, and gifts that I shower on them when discipline is sleeping in the garage.

I too have questions about God's discipline. Heb 12 talks about how to run in the race with God. It talks about voluntarily laying aside sin and running with endurance. But something isn't right about this race. I am running hard, putting off sin, and still get whacked. How do you take the hand that hurts you? How to do smile on the face that scolds you? How do you embrace the arms that spank you? How do you believe in the love that contradicts all your senses?

For those whom the Lord LOVES He disciplines...He disciplines us for OUR good. Heb 12:6,10

Hum...really?

This isn't even talking about my sinful, rebellious ways. This is the truth of being the object of His love and affection. My being rebels against those statements. The core of who I am hates pain. Unanswered prayer, shattered dreams, unmet and dashed expectations, death, sickness, unemployment, relationship conflict - is that discipline? What does discipline even look like? How can you tell the difference between a result of sin, Satan and God? Is that even a fair question? As a child of God can't I just assume that there is pain associated with my sin, pain related to other's sin, and pain that God sends my way?

When job was being tortured by his wife and friends, when boils covered his body, when the emptiness of losing his children consumed him and drove him into the dark caverns of depression and despair, when financial ruin left him no crumbs to feast on, when heaven was silent, and consolation was his enemy was that discipline? Was that the love of God? Was that God's way of saying thank you for your upright spirit, for your steadfast love, for your sacrifice and effort?

Job was not an enemy of suffering, neither was Paul or Jesus. But something in me, something pious refuses to call pain, whatever shape or manifestation it may take, as the love of God. Yet this damn word, LOVE, stares me in the face, runs me over without mercy, beats me senseless, and leaves me wounded. It comes with aggression, with relentless pursuit, refusing to compromise, refusing to be held at bay, refusing room to another, refusing to leave me ignorant and unchanged. He won't relent. He won't tire. He won't stop until I have been ravished by Him.

Love saw no mercy when it nailed the Son to the cross. Love saw no compassion when He was beat and scourged for this God hater. Love saw no mercy when it hunted me down and burned like fire in my soul. Love sees no mercy in its destruction of the Poser. Love sees no mercy in drawing me into the life of God. Love sees no mercy and offers no apology until we become one.

He hurts me to share in His holiness and produce righteousness. Heb 12:10,11

I don't get pain. I don't get His ways. I don't know the difference between consequence and discipline. I can't solve this mystery. But this one thing I know, this one thing shines brighter than any other cantankerous thought...His love NEVER EVER fails.