The Price of Love [Easter 6B]

The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

John 15:9-17

The Price of Love

When we first started dating, because I was super charming, every time Jen asked me to do something I would say, “I do what I want, ‘cause I’m sweet.”  I’m sure she found that very endearing.  I mean, she still married me, so… But I have a confession to make: that wasn’t entirely true.  I mean, I am sweet, obviously.  But I did not do whatever I wanted.  Because that’s just not how love works.  And I love her.

Because of my love for Jen, my life changed.  Love changed me.  I made compromises that I would not have otherwise made, and that I would not have made for anyone else.  I altered my patterns and routines.  I changed behaviors and attitudes.  I spent my time and money differently.  I pretended to be interested in stuff she liked.  I followed her to India for three weeks, because she asked me if I was interested, I was not interested in going and had no money.  But I wanted to be with her.  I made sacrifices and so did she.  I made room in my life for another person.  And she made room for me.  Because that is how love works.

And the amazing thing is: I can be as resistant to change as anyone but the changes did not feel burdensome.  The sacrifices did not hurt – even though I enjoy my comforts.  Love softened my heart and melted my resolve.  And I found that I wanted to change for her; I wanted to become a better version of myself; I wanted to make more and more room in my life, in my heart, for the woman I fell in love with.  True love had a price, for sure, but it felt like a bargain.

Years later, we had our first child, Oscar.  And he cried a lot.  He did not sleep – for the first couple of years.  It was maddening.  There are still times, six and a half years later, when I find this guy baffling or frustrating: like when he is in the midst of his almost nightly emotional meltdown.  And he is stubborn, and strong-willed, and very particular – and the guy who said “I do what I want ‘cause I’m sweet” has no idea where his son gets those traits.    

This little boy just crashed into our lives and messed with our routines and altered our patterns.  He changed our lives.  Jen didn’t sleep for two years; and I did not do much better.  We were exhausted and confused a lot of the time.  We often felt over our heads and out of our depths – sometimes still do. 

It is amazing how someone so tiny can make such a huge impact – like an asteroid hitting our lives.  And he made us so happy – and I don’t think it was all sleep-deprived delirium.  He has blessed us so much – he enlarged our hearts and we have become better people because of him and the love he so extravagantly offers us is staggering, humbling.  We fell deeply in love with that little boy the moment we saw him: love at first sight.  And once again the demands of love imposed their will on me.

And once again, amazingly: the changes to my life did not feel burdensome.  The sacrifices were real but they did not hurt.  That little guy turned our comfortable world upside down but it was OK because of love.  And I found that I wanted to change my life for this little guy; I wanted to become a better version of myself; I wanted to make more and more room in my life, in my heart, for that tiny person I fell in love with.  True love had a price but it felt like a bargain.

When Jesus talks about love in today’s Gospel passage, it doesn’t sound terribly romantic.  It sounds demanding.  He keeps mixing love up with commandments, even with death.  And that seems like a strange juxtaposition because love is supposed to be nice and beautiful.  And commandments are a burdensome limitation placed upon the freedoms we so value in our culture.  And death is a painful disruption.  They don’t seem to go together.

Except when you experience true love, deep love, you know that of course they do.  Because love is both salvation and subordination.  Love requires one to sacrifice some of one’s freedom – to offer it, as a gift, to the object of one’s love.  Love requires one to lose one’s life – to offer it, as a gift, to the object of one’s love.  This is the cost of relationship.  For Jesus love is kneeling at the feet of his friends; it is carrying the cross for the sake of the whole world.  It is a broken body that feeds his loved ones.  Love is not easy; it’s just worth it.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus gets a little circular – and maybe that is just because love is a mystery that is better experienced than described.  But he says, “If you keep my commandments you will abide in my love.”  But it turns out, there is not commandments but commandment: and that is love.  Love one another as I have loved you.  If you love, you will abide in my love.  But only if we abide in the love of Jesus can we then love with his love.  And so there you go. 

Love is not a problem to solve.  It is a reality in which we exist.  It’s not really that we change for love but that love changes us.  It’s not that we choose to make the necessary sacrifices, the sacrifices that love requires.  Instead the experience of love so changes our hearts that the sacrifices don’t feel like sacrifices.

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus famously tells his disciples that his yoke is easy and his burden is light.  And that sounds comforting.  It sounds comforting because it says easy.  But what we often don’t consider is that there is still a burden and there is still a yoke.  They are not gone.  It’s just that those who love Jesus, don’t feel the weight.  Because that’s how love works.

Jesus asks one thing of his followers.  Just one thing.  It is not an easy thing but at least it is streamlined.  Love as I have loved you: the Christian life packed into a one-liner.  Love of God, the Law of God, fulfilled in loving others.  This is the essence of Christian ministry.  And it is universal: no ordination, no license, no permission necessary.  It starts close to us.  It starts at home; it starts at church; in the Gospel it starts with Jesus’ circle of friends.  And then it emanates out – no borders, no boundaries – just a radical ministry of love made manifest in works of mercy and cries for justice.  This is the work to which Jesus calls every Christian, every person who bears Jesus’ name.  This is what Jesus expects of us – no, commands of us.  Just this one thing.  So being a Christian is pretty simple – just not terribly easy.

Love is costly.  Love demands we change and change always carries death in its bones.  Love strips our freedoms and takes our life, even as it sets us free and raises us from the death of isolation.  Love slices open our hearts – but for all the right reasons: to let others in and let more love pour out. 

The more we love, the more we lose.  And yet I have never once regretted it.  Because that is the thing about love: the price is immense but it is always a bargain.