In his excellent treatment of the Bible’s passages on God’s love, The Difficult Doctrine of the Love of God (Crossway, 2000), D.A. Carson retells the Les Misérables’ story of Jean Valjean to make the point that we must “never, never underestimate the power of the love of God to break down and transform the most amazingly hard individuals”:
“Sentenced to a nineteen-year term of hard labor for stealing bread, Jean Valjean becomes a hard and bitter man. No one could break him; everyone feared him. Released from prison, Valjean finds it difficult to survive, as innkeepers will not welcome him and work is scarce. Then a kind bishop welcomes him into his home. But Valjean betrays the trust. During the night he creeps off into the darkness, stealing some of the family silver.
“But Valjean is brought back next morning to the bishop’s door by three policemen. They had arrested him and found the stolen silver on him. A word from the bishop, and the wretch would be incarcerated for life. But the bishop instantly exclaims, ‘So here you are! I’m delighted to see you. Had you forgotten that I gave you the candlesticks as well? They’re silver like the rest, and worth a good 200 francs. Did you forget to take them?’
“Jean Valjean is released, and he is transformed. When the gendarmes withdraw, the bishop insists on giving the candlesticks to his speechless, mortified, thankful guest. ‘Do not forget, do not ever forget that you have promised me to use the money to make yourself an honest man,’ admonishes the bishop. And meanwhile the detective constantly pursuing Valjean, Javert, who is consumed by justice but who knows nothing of forgiveness or compassion, crumbles when his black-and-white categories of mere justice fail to cope with grace that goes against every instinct for revenge. Valjean is transformed; Javert jumps off a bridge and drowns in the Seine.
“Of course, this is Christian love – i.e., the love of God mediated in this case through a bishop. But this is how it should be, for God’s love so transforms us that we mediate it to others, who are thereby transformed. We love because he first loved us; we forgive because we stand forgiven.” (81-82)
In The Difficult Doctrine of the Love of God (Crossway, 2000), D.A. Carson seeks to balance the popular view of the love of God (often reduced to the fuzzy, feel-good claim that “God is love”) with what Scripture says about his holiness and sovereignty, attributes that actually enrich our understanding of God’s love. And while most of us, whether Christian or not, tend to think of the love of God as his love toward us, Carson spends a significant amount of time on the intra-Trinitarian love of God – the love expressed among the three persons of the Trinity – which is the basis for the love that we receive and, because of Christ, are empowered to give. The passage below, which discusses the primacy of the Father’s love for the Son, completely blew me away.
“We too quickly think of our salvation almost exclusively with respect to its bearing on us. Certainly there is endless ground for wonder in the Father’s love for us, in Jesus’ love for us. But undergirding them, more basic than they are, is the Father’s love for the Son. Because of the love of the Father for the Son, the Father has determined that all should honor the Son even as they honor the Father (John 5:23). Indeed, this love of the Father for the Son is what makes sense of John 3:16. True, ‘God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son’- there the object of God’s love in the world. But the standards that tells us just how great that love is has already been set. What is its measure? God so loved that world that he gave his Son. Paul’s reasoning in similar: If God did not spare his Son, how shall he not also with him freely give us all things (Romans 8:32)? The argument is cogent only because the relationship between the Father and the Son is the standard for all other love relationships.” (35)
Do you have a hard time saying no when others request something of you? Do you find yourself fearing losing the approval of others even if it means doing what seems to be right thing or saying something that needs to be said, even if it’s difficult? These are the traits of a typical people-pleaser, and I readily recognize them in myself – especially in wanting others to like me and to think well of me. But as Ed Welch explains below in his excellent book When People are Big and God is Small (P&R, 1997), if unaddressed, this can not only can be detrimental to yourself, but it can keep you from truly loving and helping others. I like how he puts it, especially noting how we can deceive ourselves about the goodness of wanting to please others.
“People-pleasers can mistake ‘niceness’ for love. When they do, they will be prone to being manipulated by others, and burn-out is sure to follow. People-pleasers can also mistake ‘yes’ for love. But ‘yes’ might be very unwise. It might not be the best way to repay our debt of love. Saying ‘yes’ to one task might keep us from another that is more important. It might mean that we will do something that someone else could have done better. It might mean that we will entrench the sin patterns of other people. It might mean that we interpret the church egocentrically rather than as a body, thinking, ‘If I don’t do it, nobody will.’
“Therefore ‘yes,’ ‘being nice,’ and ‘self-sacrifice’ are not necessarily the same as love. They can be ways that we establish our own personal meaning and identity more than creative expressions of loving others” (214).
I loved Tim Sanders’s Love is the Killer App (Three Rivers, 2002).
Though I haven’t read many books in business and marketing, this is a book that, though it deals heavily in these fields, transcends those genres: It’s a book which, at a fundamental level, can help you to grow as a person and then teach you how to help others grow as well. What Sanders calls a “lovecat” is essentially a nice, smart person who is generous with his knowledge and network and who is committed to the growth of others.
Sanders says you become a “lovecat” by attending to three things: 1) Knowledge, 2) Network, and 3) Compassion. By “knowledge,” he means you must read a lot, and books above all, so that you are at the top of your field and are equipped to share this knowledge with others. By “network,” he means that not only should you diligently cultivate a professional network, but you should then be diligent about helping people those in your network by sharing your knowledge with them and get busy connecting them with others who can help them. Finally, by “compassion,” he means something that is so simple but which we often neglect in at the workplace, and especially in the world business: Be human. This he defines well, I thought, as fundamentally “being committed to the growth of the other.”
This is one of my favorite things about Sanders’s book: Everything he commends is consistent with biblical principles, and primarily, as the title suggests, the biblical command to love. This is all about putting others first, seeking their good above your own, and then finding your own happiness and success because of that.
I loved how he puts it at the end of his book (meaning these pages are all kinds of dog-eared!):
“If you are a genuine lovecat, you show compassion for people because you like them. You tell others you are committed to their success because you want your contacts to be smarter, more informed, more capable. You arrange meetings between your contacts because you genuinely believe they will like each other, even if you gain nothing from the introduction… When there is no love, there should be no expression of love. Never fake it.”
“… Perhaps the greatest advantage of being compassionate is that… you help your bizmates grow, in both their outward success and their inner lives. And they sense your compassion, they start to develop in the most basic sense… In other words, we love people in order to help them grow in their own ability to love. We want them to enjoy the warmth of love and become more human… So when I engage in bizlove, I’m motivated by the impact it has on others, not just the attitude they will have about me (and whatever gain or popularity that affords me) I’m not a needy lover. I don’t hug you or tell you how much I care about you because I’m lonely. I say and do those things because I want you to experience the same humanity, freedom, and joy that I do. When lovecats help others do that, our job is done” (192-193).
In his book on leadership, The Conviction to Lead: 25 Principles for Leadership That Matters (Bethany House, 2012), Al Mohler, who is the president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, has an excellent chapter entitled, “Leaders as Teachers.” Here he argues that true leaders are by nature teachers, and they “teach by word, example, and sheer force of passion.” Those they lead, he says, should be active learners and the organizations they lead should be “learning organizations.”
My favorite part of this chapter is where he uses Augustine to argue that it is love, that highest of virtues, that is at the core of teaching and which drives the true teacher. Augustine, he writes, taught that “there is really only one worthy motivation to teach, and that is love.”
Love, continues Mohler, runs through teaching in three ways:
1. “The teacher loves who he will teach. The teacher is not only imparting knowledge but also giving a gift, and the motivation for that gift is not any gain for the teacher but that the student will benefit from the knowledge.”
2. “The teacher must love what he teaches…The best teachers are those who simply can’t wait to teach something they truly love.”
3. “We teach because we first love Christ, who first loved us. While he was most concerned for those who would lead churches, Augustine’s point extends to every arena of leadership. Wherever the Christian leader leads, he must do so out of the love of Christ.”
In The Meaning of Marriage (Dutton, 2011), pastor and author Tim Keller says that at the heart of marriage is friendship. So if we’re ultimately pursuing marriage, he says, we shouldn’t put such a high value on things like sex, chemistry, and attraction, which will change over time, but rather we should look for a companion – the kind of person we can walk alongside for decades in a mutually satisfying and meaningful relationship.
So how do we find this kind of companion? I like how Keller puts it:
“It often happens that you have a good friend of the opposite sex with whom you share common commitments. You trust this person’s wisdom and you find you can open up and share many intimate things without fear. He or she understands you well and listens to you and gives you great advice. But the person doesn’t attract you romantically. Maybe he or she doesn’t have the body type that you find appealing. You feel no sexual chemistry at all. Then imagine that you meet someone else to whom you feel very attracted. This person has the physical and social attributes you have been looking for and is interested in you, too. So you start seeing each other and you have a lot of fun together and things are moving along into more and more romantic intimacy. But if you are honest with yourself, this person you say you are falling in love with does not make nearly as good a friend as the one you already have, nor is that likely to change.
“You are in trouble. Your spouse has got to be your best friend, or be on the way to becoming your best friend, or you won’t have a strong, rich marriage that endures and that makes you both vastly better persons for having been it” (125).
“Look for someone who understands you better than you do yourself, who makes you a better person just by being around them. And then explore whether that friendship could become a romance and a marriage” (126).
President Garfield (1831-1881) was of a very different temperament from his wife, Lucretia. He was “big-hearted and cheerful…nearly impossible to resist,” and she was “soft-spoken and very private,” at times even fearing that others viewed her as “cold” and “heartless.”
In the endlessly fascinating Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine and the Murder of a President (Anchor, 2012), Candice Millard tells their love story: one of emotional frustration, great heartbreak, and enduring love, passion, and devotion.
They had a bumpy start, with a courtship that was “long, awkward, and far more analytical than passionate.” Though Lucretia loved Garfield, she hardly showed it, struggling to give physical affection and frustrating him emotionally. He was not in love with her when they married – he didn’t feel toward her as most of us expect someone to feel when they marry – and she knew it. This pained her terribly, and combined with long periods of distance because of his participation in the Civil War and his work in Congress, it made made their first years of marriage “nearly unbearable.”
Then James had an affair with a young reporter from New York with whom he fell in love with “the kind of love he had for so long yearned to feel for Lucretia” (118). He soon confessed his sin to Lucretia, and though she was indignant and heartbroken, she quickly “forgave him, demanding only that he end the relationship immediately.”
This he did, but he now feared losing completely Lucretia’s heart.
It was here that “his own feelings began to change. As he watched her bravely endure the pain and heartbreak that he had caused, Garfield suddenly saw Lucretia in a new light. She was not cold and unreachable but strong, steady, and resilient. Slowly, he began to fall in love with his wife.”
“As the years passed, Garfield’s love for Lucretia grew until it eclipsed any doubts he ever had. His letters…were now filled with passionate declarations of love. Lucretia was finally the object of James’s ‘gushing affection.’ (118)”
These brief excerpts from Garfield’s letters give us a glimpse of this passionate love:
“I here record the most deliberate conviction of my soul. Were every tie that binds me to the men and women of the world severed, and I free to choose out of all the world the sharer of my heart and home and life, I would fly to you and ask you to be mine as you are” (119).
“You can never know how much I need you during these days of storm. Every hour I want to go and state some case to your quick intuition. But I feel the presence of your spirit” (119).
“It is almost painful for me to feel that so much of my life and happiness have come to depend upon another than myself. I want to hear from you so often, and I shall wait and watch with a hungry heart until your dear words reach me” (119).
When she became sick, Garfield bordered on desperation. To him she was “the continent, the solid land on which I build all my happiness. When you are sick, I am like the inhabitants of countries visited by earthquakes. They lose all faith in the eternal order and fixedness of things” (119).