One Thing Must Never Change

Bob Lonsberry writes a column that is worth pondering, especially on this Sunday.

A lady wrote me the other day, about her granddaughter, a young woman of 24.

A young woman who had been gravely ill.

Who had lingered long at the door of death and cried mightily for the help of God. They were of a conservative faith, of commandments and promises, and the family and its circle of friends had put the matter in the Lord’s hands.

And he had heard their prayers.

She strengthened and rallied and recovered and lived. And is now altogether better.

And she is leaving her family.

To move in with her boyfriend.

To live with him, without benefit of marriage, as if she was his wife.

And the grandmother wondered what to do. She was disappointed that her granddaughter had clung to God in her hour of need, but seemed to be turning from him now that her need was passed. She was heartbroken that the young woman would be doing what the family considered immoral.

And she asked me what she should do.

Not that she thought I was any great font of wisdom, or even because she was thinking I would answer. She was merely asking rhetorically.

But I answered anyway.

I told her she should love the girl. Period. That she should love her as she always had and that neither this mistake nor any mistake should come between them.

Maybe it’s simplistic, but I think that is the answer to virtually every question. Especially questions within the family.

And I don’t claim any keen insight in saying that. I have learned it by observation. By observation of people I admire and a God I worship.

We are all sinners, and have keenly disappointed, I suspect, the father of us all. And yet I do not believe that his love for us is diminished in the least. And as I have seen people whose lives have strayed and darkened come back and work to better themselves and their conduct, I have seen God move quickly and lovingly to embrace them and accept them.

The parable of the Prodigal Son was about him and us. We are squandering our birthright and he is making ready to slaughter the fatted calf.

Which can all sound like mumbo jumbo.

So remember this: As parents, relatives and friends, our job is simple. We must merely love.

Not that it will always be easy, or even natural, but our responsibility will constantly be clear. We are to love.

And we are to remember that the most when it is the hardest, or when we are the most disappointed. When it seems like the object of our love least wants it, that is when it must be the most sure.

When we feel that we have been spit upon, when we feel that our loved one has turned his back upon us. When we feel that she is rejecting everything we stand for and believe in.

That is when the commandment to love is most clear.

And it is a commandment to fathers as well as mothers, to cousins as well as siblings. There can be no disowning, no distancing, no shunning or rejection. They are our kin, they are us. We are theirs and they are ours.

Whether they go to jail or turn to drugs or abandon our faith or stop returning calls. There must be something certain in their lives, something which, should they choose, they can always rely on.

And that is our love.

And our acceptance, if not always our approval. They will do things that sadden us and with which we disagree, things which we believe will endanger their very souls. We are not expected to ratify those things, or facilitate them, or quietly accept their existence. But neither are we to harp and nag.

Our position is known, it can be lovingly repeated. Advice can be offered and a hand up from difficulty should always be extended. But chastising may not work and neither may condemnation.

Rather, we must stand for who we are and what we believe, and we must be a beacon back should our loved one choose to come. And until then we should love, through the pain and the consequence and the confused wanderings.

We should stand by them.

Just as God has stood by us.

Because if we don’t, it may not be them who has strayed. It may be us.

And it may not be their fault they founder and sink.

It may be ours.