Love Is Not Optional

When you buy a car, you first get a price that is very basic. It may seem like a lot, but the salesman convinces you it is a bargain. Then you talk about the extras: the air conditioning, the sun‑roof, the CD player, the computer analyzer, etc. It may seem very difficult, but it is possible to refuse the extras, and still get the car.

In the Christian life, some people want the superficial extras, but think they can get along without the basic equipment. They can take the sacrament, they can attend church, have their names on the rolls, come to the church suppers and even sing in the choir. They are sold on the extras, but just as a car is not a car without wheels, so the Christian is not a Christian without love. Love is not optional!

The epistle‑writer says: "If any one says, 'I love God' and hates his brother, he is a liar." (I Jn. 4:20). We thought maybe this basic equipment could wait. We know we are supposed to love our neighbors, but at the moment, we just can't do it. So, we'd like the optional equipment first, and maybe some day get around to the basics. It doesn't work. It's no soap! It isn't good logic, and it isn't good Christianity.

I have no alternative. I may not agree with my neighbors. I may not like my neighbors, but nonetheless I must love them. Love is not optional. And this comes at times, as a terrifying reality. It moves me out of the theoretical into the realm of the actual.

The story of hate down through the centuries has been a grim one. Hatred is not just an absence of love, it is a violation of the law of love. Just as holding your breath is a violation of the law of breathing, so hatred is a violation of the law of loving. The effects are deadly!

There is a cross that stands at the center of our faith. And the epistle‑writer says: "Herein is love,...that God loved us and sent his Son to be the expiation for our sins." He then concludes, "Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another." (I John 4:l0,ll)

If I am a Christian, I have no choice. My job is not to change my neighbor, or even to agree with him in everything. My job is simply to love him. I may not learn to like the garlic he eats, or enjoy the music to which he listens. I may not like the way he combs his hair, or the cut of his clothes, but I must love him as I love myself...to want for him, what I want for myself...to guarantee for him every freedom which I wish to guarantee for myself.

Sometimes this drives me to distraction, but the automobile of faith won't move without it.