Oh, How He Loves Us So

So we are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If grace is an ocean we're all sinking
So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss and my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way

That he loves us,
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves ...

This song draws on a number of devotional themes. The complete lyrics can be found here. One part that stands out to me is the description of how God Himself is the inheritance for His people, and we are His portion.

I cannot forsee large crowds of people lining up to buy this song. As for myself, I did try to buy it at my church bookstore today. They didn't have it. The singer, Kim Walker, sings with such a primitiveness, and as the original composer, John Mark McMillan, has noted it's not even a worship song.

The simplicity grabbed me, and I was reminded of the indebitedness I have toward God. I recommend giving the video a listen.

Thanksgiving Wish

May your thanksgiving be full of unexplainable gladness.

May the God who dwells inside His chosen ones in all circumstances be praised by His chosen ones in all circumstances.

May His unsearchable love guide those who love to follow His guidance.

May the tongues of His people freely praise the One who has set them free.

On A Bench At The Mall

I sit on a bench at the mall,
Between two stores there stands a wall.
Before the wall the people pass,
And in my brain the forms let dance.
Looks to concept, a distant jump
The self still weeps in a clump.
As I watch them pass the store,
Who watches me? Behind my door?
Thickened veils and painted masks,
Still closed if they had the chance.
So quick to visit distant shores,
What blood escapes their pores?
I sit still here upon the bench,
It has become a wretched stench.
A perfect place above the trees,
Yet the angels all watch me.
A massive stairway to the clouds,
But up itself is coming down.
My eyes will search to watch it fall
Down to a bench at the mall.


To err is human, to forgive divine.
Pope

Boasting In My Weakness

Matthew Anderson, a friend over at Mere Orthodoxy invited me to post 8 random stories about myself.

1) When I was three years old my father pulled me aside and said, "Son, I love you." After a moment I said, "I love you too, father." And he said, "Do you really?". I remember thinking to myself, "What is love? Is it a feeling? I don't think it is. Is it a giving? But I have nothing to give? Is it merely a word? I believe it is more than that." Eventually I told my father I did love him, but I feared I had lied because I couldn't explain to myself what love was, so how could I love?

2) In highschool I spent a long time in the mornings reading the Bible. First I would notice the Bible on my nightstand. Then I was head off to do some other task. Then I would come back to the edge of my bed and sit. Then I would stand up. Then I would sit back down again. Much, much later, I began to read.

3) As a little boy I used to wonder about how many people there were on the earth. At least a hundred -which was more than I could imagine. "And how strange," I thought, "That I am the only one I have control over." After thinking about this I grew very afraid, and I didn't understand why.

4) During my early days in college I began studying the works of those who used philosophical and scientific evidence to defend the Bible. It was at this time I went to the hospital for an appendectomy. My roommate was a Mormon. I thought I had all the answers. The more certain of this I became, the more foolish my own words sounded to me. Eventually the mormon told me, "Look, I'm not just going to put my hands over my eyes and ears and shout until you go away. The thing is I live by faith." To this day I believe he was in a sense full of lies, but at the time I thought to myself, "Simple faith? How wonderful!". When I returned to college I tried to forget the whole incident.

5) One time as a young child I found a penny on the carpet. I was delighted and hid it in my hands. My father easily saw me do this and asked me what I had. I showed him reluctantly. He told me to give it back, but I refused. He told me again. Although the penny seemed like a lot of money to me at the time, I had this odd sensation that it was actually worth almost nothing and that he would give it back to me if I just handed it over to him. And the more I considered this, the tighter I held the penny. "What kind of man demands to have money handed over to him, so he can give it back?" I was also (painfully) aware of how unhappy I was in my stiffness.

6) In junior high I decided to get baptised. Afterword I was faced with two voices. The first voice said over and over again, "It was a nice ceremony. The people in your community all expect it of you and now it is over with." The second voice said, "This is your chance -maybe your only chance- to change your ways and become a different person. You have set off on a total life commitment, and that is where you should continue." How slow I was to accept the latter voice!

7) While studying philosophy at Keble College in Oxford I cherished the complexity of my studies and how I was (slowly) mastering them. At the same time I had this sinking feeling that all my efforts were to no avail -that my studies promised me everything, but instead gave me nothing. I began to let go of my strenuous efforts at understanding. I feared I had failed at school and also at life. It was then that I began to spend time with a young girl about my age. She was very intelligent, but did not consider her learning something to be grasped. And with what joy she lived! "Surely, this woman has found the true Jesus," I thought. A year and a half later I married her.

8) In highschool we had a large auditorium where we met three times a week for morning assembly. Someone would recite a speach or perform a dance. Then the faculty would get up, face the audience, and yell loudly their announcements. Some mornings it seemed like they were in competition with each other to see who could shout the loudest to get the most attention. I remember often sensing that God was trying to get my attention, but His voice was so quiet!

How To Be Convinced

'I suffer, forgive me, I suffer ...' And in a hot rush of feeling she clasped her hands before him.

'From what in particular?'

'I suffer ... from a lack of faith ...'

'A lack of faith in God?'

'Oh no, no, of that I do not even dare to think, no, it's the life to come - that is such a riddle! And I mean, there is no one, no one who can answer it! Look, you are a healer, a connoisseur of the human soul: I, of course cannot demand that you believe me entirely, but I assure you by the most solemn precept that not out of light-mindedness do I say to you now that this notion of a future life beyond the grave agitates me to the point of torture, of horror and of panic ... And I do not know who to turn to, all my life I have not dared ... and so now I am making so bold as to turn to you. Oh God, what sort of woman will you think me now?' She wrung her hands.

'Do not be troubled on account of my opinion,' the Elder replied. 'I fully believe in the sincerity of your anguish.'

'Oh, I am so grateful to you! You see, I close my eyes and think: if everyone else believes, then why do I feel all this? And now people say that it all stems in the first place from a fear of nature's frightening manifestations and that none of it is based in reality. But wait, I think: all my life I've believed that I shall die, and that suddenly there will be nothing there, only "burdock growing on a grave", as I read in the work of a certain writer. That is dreadful! How, how am I to restore my faith?

Though actually, I only had it when I was a little girl, it was something automatic, something I didn't even need to think about ... How, how can it be proven? I have come now to abase myself before you and ask you for this. I mean, if I let this opportunity pass me by, then no one will give me an answer for the rest of my life. How can it be proven, how can one be convinced it is true? Oh, it's too unfortunate! I stand and look around me and see that no one could care less, or practically no one, no one worries about this any more, and I'm the only person who cannot endure it. It is murderous, murderous!'

'Without doubit, it is murderous. But here it is not possible to prove anything; it is however, possible to be convinced.'

'How? By what means?'

'By the experience of active love. Try to love your fellow human beings actively and untiringly. In the degree to which you succeed in that love, you will also be convinced of God's existence, and of your soul's immortality. And if you attain complete self-renunciation in your love for your fellow creatures, then you will unfailingly come to believe, and no form of doubt will ever be able to visit your soul. That has been tested, that is precisely true.'

'Active love? But that is another question, and it is such a qusetion, such a one! You see, my love for mankind is so great that, would you believe it, I sometimes dream of giving up all, all that I possess, of forsaking Lise and of joining the Sisters of Mercy. I close my eyes, I think and dream, and at those moments I sense within myself an over mastering strength. No wounds, no septic sores would be able to frighten me. I would dress them and bathe them with my own hands, I would be a sick-nurse to those sufferers, I am ready to kiss those sores...'

'It is already much and good that your mind should dream of this, and not of some other thing. One day suddenly by chance you really will perform some good work.'

'Yes, but would I last in such an existence for long?' The lady continued hotly, and almost in a kind of frenzy. 'That is the question! That is the question that torments me most of all. I close my eyes and ask myself: would you last long on such a path? And if the sick person whose sores you are washing does not at once respond with gratitude, but starts instead to torment you with caprices, failing either to cherish or even notice your philanthropic devotion, begins to shout at you, making rude demands, even complaining to someone in authority (the way that people in great physical suffering often do) -what then? Will your love survive, or will it not? And then, you see, I realized with a shudder that if there is one thing that would be capable of instantly cooling my "active" love for mankind, it is ingratitude. Quite simply, I am the kind of woman who works for a reward, and I want the reward at once, in the form of praise for myself and reciprocated love. I am incapable of loving anyone on any other terms!'

She was in an access of the most sincere self-flagellation and, when it was over, gave the Elder a look of challenging resolve.

'That is almost precisely what a certain medical man once told me, long ago now,' the Elder observed. 'The man was already quite advanced in years, and of unquestionable intelligence. He spoke just as frankly as you have done, though also with humour, a rueful kind of humour; "I love mankind," he said, "but I marvel at myself: the more I love mankind in general, the less I love human beings in particular, separately, that is, as individual persons. In my dreams," he said, "I would often arrive at fervent plans of devotion to mankind and might very possibly have gone to the Cross for human beings, had that been suddenly required of me, and yet I am unable to spend two days in the same room with someone else, and this I know from experience. No sooner is that someone else close to me than this personality crushes my self-esteem and hampers my freedom. In the space of a day and a night I am capable of coming to hate even the best of human beings: one because he takes too long over dinner, another because he has a cold and is perpetually blowing his nose. I become the enemy of others," he said, "very nearly as soon as they come into contact with me. To compensate for this, however, it has always happened that the more I have hated human beings in particular, the more ardent has become my love for manking in general."'

'But then what is to be done? What is to be done in such a case? Is one to give oneself up in despair?'

'No, for it is sufficient that you grieve over it. Do what you are able, and it will be taken into consideration. In your case much of the work has already been done, for you have been able to understand yourself so deeply and sincerely! If, however, you have spoken so sincerely to me now only in order to receive the kind of praise I have just given you for your truthfulness, then you will, of course, get nowhere in your heroic attempts at active love; it will all merely remain in your dreams, and the whole of your life will flit by like a wraith. You will also, of course forget about the life to come, and you will end by somehow acquiring a kind of calm.'

'You have overwhelmed me! It is only now, at this very moment, as you were speaking, that I realized I was indeed merely expecting you to praise me for my sincerity when I told you I could not tolerate ingratitude. You have pre-empted me, you have caught me out and explained me to myself!'

'Do you say so, indeed? Well now, after a confession like that from you, I believe that you are sincere and good-hearted. If you do not reach happiness, always remember that you are on the right road, and try not to deviate from it. The main thing is to shun lies, all forms of lies, lies to yourself in particular. Keep a watch on your lies and study them every hour, every minute. Also shun disdain, both for others and for yourself: that which appears to you foul within yourself is cleansed by the very fact of your having noticed it in you. Also shun fear, although fear is only the consequence of any kind of lying. Never be daunted by your own lack of courage in the attainment of love, nor be over-daunted even by your bad actions in this regard. I regret I can say nothing more cheerful to you, for in comparison to fanciful love, active love is a cruel and frightening thing. Fanciful love thrists for the quick deed, swiftly accomplished, and that everyone should gaze upon it. In such cases the point really is reached where people are even willing to give their lives just as long as the whole thing does not last an eternity but is swiftly achieved, as on the stage, and as long as everyone is watching and praising. Active love, on the other hand, involves work and self-mastery, and for some it may even becomes a whole science. But I prophesy to you that at the very moment you behold with horror that in spite of all your efforts, not only have you failed to move towards your goal, but even seem to have grown more remote from it - at that very moment, I prophesy to you, you will suddenly reach that goal and discern clearly above you the miracle-working power of the Lord, who has loved you all along and has all along been mysteriously guiding you. Forgive me that I cannot stay longer with you, they are waiting for me. Until we meet again.'

The lady wept.

Dostoyevski. The Brothers Karamazov. pp. 59-63

Quality of Life

I have strong views on a certain topic which has entered the political domain: abortion.

My interest here is not in debating the issue. My concern is in overcoming the deceitfulness of public opinion in order to understand how to live a devoted life.

Although I believe there is room for parents to discuss before God cases where a mother's life is at stake, I am convinced that the vast majority of abortions are murder.

Just as the serpent presented Eve with a number of confusing facts to consider before she made a choice she would greatly regret, the world presents mothers with information that entices many but is detestable to God. Eve had a desire to obey her Lord and her husband, Adam, but in the moment of temptation she forgot what mattered the most to her. In the same way women are naturally inclined to love and nurture their children ... but the world always has a different plan.

Learning to see through the deceit of the world is an important responsibility which heaven gives to every pregnant woman -and also to each of us. The difficulty lies not in recognizing how one ought to live, but in making this method one's own.

Here are some aspects of the issue to consider:

1) Despair does not justify wrong-doing; despair is the essence of wrong doing, and it confirms that there was a wrong doing.

To me it is clear that killing an infant because a person "needed" to pursue a career, relationship, or education is a desperate act. It is precisely the element of despair that makes it murderous.

In the case of an accidental death it is very different.

Sadly some couples accidentally have a part in their infants' deaths -perhaps the baby is left with a toy and suffocates. As far as I am concerned, the parents are not murderers because they (presumably) did not leave the toy with the infant in a desperate attempt of some sort.

The element of desperation is the essential factor in all crime and all sin. To explain the act by referring to one's despair is to confess to one's true guilt.

2) No environment can give anyone meaning in life.

Ungodly men have supposed that if a child is to grow up in an environment where they are unloved they are better off removed from the world in their infancy. They foolishly suppose that -if an unwanted child were brought into the world- they would lead a life of crime and unrest.

Such folly is exposed by Christ's assertion: "It is not what goes into a man that makes him unclean."

Everyone -let me repeat it again- everyone has a choice about how they are going to live their lives. To quote the athiest philosopher, Jean Paul Sartre, "Man is condemned to be free." If a person chooses evil -as we all have in one sense or another- they are made ineligible to fault their circumstances.

The world is always in the business of explaining its actions away, but the obedient life has no need of justifications.

3) Quality in life comes from love and not from external circumstances.

Suppose a single mother decides to abort her unborn child. Suppose she says to herself, "Now I can find meaning in life because I will have a career or more money to spend elsewhere or time to spend with my friends...". Would such a woman have more quality in life?

Now suppose this woman is prevented from getting a better career or education (which often turns out to be the case because desperate acts tend to lead to more desperate acts). Would the possibility of having a better education or career give a person more quality in life if they had to murder their own unborn son or daughter?

If a person chooses to find their meaning in life through their career or reputation or money, at what point does their life become meaningful? How many friends do they have to have? How much money do they have to make? And is their life worth living before they gain such things?

Measuring the value of one's life in terms of one's external accomplishments and possessions is unlawful in the sight of heaven. The fact that we all do this does nothing to excuse this fact.

The world continually preaches that people should live in a way they can boast about. This is another way of saying that a person's life should first have meaning in the eyes of other people. The result is always, always that the one who lives for the world's approval fails to find approval before God or even their own approval.

Love is the only way one may find quality in life. Paul wrote that if he had the gift of prophecy and could fathom all mysteries and all knowledge and if he had a faith that could move mountains -but he had not love- he would be nothing.

God does not stop loving us when we make choices that are pleasing to Him. In the same way, He does not withold from us the responsibility of loving our neighbor when an easier life is at stake.

I hope I have made my own views on the matter clear. Again, the important part is avoiding desperation by living a life of faith. This is a task for all of us, not only would-be mothers.

The Mockingbird's Song

The Mockingbird's Song
by The Burning Bush

Long ago there lived a young mockingbird named Eschel. Eschel was too young to find a nest of his own, so he lived with his mother.

One day as he was searching the forest for seed, he came across some other young mockingbirds.

Eebrey, Eebrey, Eebrey,
Why don't you come with us?
Took Took Took
We will repeat the calls of the blue jay
Eebrey, Eebrey, Eebrey,
Enough laughs for all.

Eschel did not understand. These birds spoke in an ever-changing song, but his mother never sang. And Eschel did not understand why they wished to repeat the calls of the blue jay.

Pooka, Pooka, Pooka,
You are a mockingbird, yes?
Dople, Dople, Dople
This is what we do.
Dorund, Dorund, Dorun,
This is why all birds envy us.
Teek Teek Teek
But you are still too young.

"No, no," Said Eschel. "Let me first get permission." And he flew back to his nest.

"Mother," Said Eschel. "Allow me to fly with some friends."

"Where will you fly?"

"To the blue jay. We wish to satire the blue jay." Said Eschel.

"Ah ..." Said, the mother. "How sad that my own son wishes to be like all the rest of the mocking birds ... Like the whole lot of our sadspecies."

"Mother, is this not our boast in life? That no bird can mock like a mockingbird?"

"It is our boast but also our greatest sorrow. For you see, no mockingbird is able to sing his own song."

"Could it be true?" Eschel thought to himself. "A bird that cannot sing a song of his own? How sad!" He said to his mother, "I do not understand that."

Eschel's mother spoke directly to him, "Son, you must not fly with the flocks of scoffers, or nest crookedly with the crooked, or join in the company of mockers. If you heed my words you will be happy."

The young mockingbird paused and said, "Yes, mother, I will obey you," Though he wasn't sure.

Several days later Eschel's mother said to him, "Son, I am growing old and it is difficult for me to fly. Please fly into the forest and find some food for us."

"Yes, mother, I will obey you," He spoke earnestly.

After he had traveled some distance he began to look for berries. The other mocking birds called out to him:

Eebrey, Eebrey, Eebrey,
Why don't you come with us?
Took Took Took
We will repeat the calls of the blue jay
Eebrey, Eebrey, Eebrey,
Enough laughs for all.

Eschel replied hesitantly, "Yes, lets do it."

The mockingbirds flew to the nest of the blue jay. They all hid in a closeby pine tree, and the oldest mockingbird called out.

"Tweeet! Tweet! Tweeeet!"

The blue jay began looking around.

"Tweeet! Honk! Honk! Tweet!"

The blue jay looked and saw the mockingbirds in the pine tree, and he lowered his head. The blue jay looked up again -this time at Eschel. Again, the blue jay lowered his head.

Eebrey, Eebrey, Eebrey,
That was superb.
Took Took Took
Let us pay our friend the owl a visit.

So the mockingbirds flew to the nest of the owl. They landed in a sycamore tree and peeked around the side of the tree at the owl.

The eldest mockingbird spoke softly at Eschel: "Well ... call out to him."

Eschel paused. Then he sang out:

Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!
Hoot! Honk! Honk!

Unlike blue jays, owls have excellent ears. The owl did not look around to find Eschel. He fixed both of his large, brown eyes on Eschel immediately.

The other mockingbirds took flight, but before Eschel left the sycamore he heard the owl answer back:

"Eschel!"
"Eschel!"
"Eschel!"

With every call Eschel felt as if the owl was setting aside every bird in history to call out to him. His call was not high and light like Eschel's own call. It was deep and he could feel it with his feathers.

Eschel imagined it was not the owl calling, but every flying creature who had ever lived in the forest.

"Come here, Eschel!"

Eschel flew down to the owl's branch.

"You can call out with that loud, young voice of yours ... or was that your voice?" The owl then said, "Do you also have ears to hear with?"

What was the owl asking? "Yes, yes. I have ears to hear with."

"Then hear me now, if you can. You are a mocking bird. The only song you know is the song of scorn, for you take what little solace these creatures have in the world and you mock them for it.

"Listen to me, Eschel, for I have learned many things in my time. The mockingbirds you travel with love to take gladness from the other birds, but the gladness they find is a lie and it is really a bitterness and an envy."

"Why is it bitter?" Asked Eschel.

"The cruelest of the mockingbirds wish they had their own song to sing, but they never find one because they are always mocking the birds, the owls, the forest, even heaven itself."

"What must I do?" Asked Eschel.

"Return to your mother. And do not join in the mockery of the mockingbirds. If you have no song to sing, learn to sing the song of silence, as I have learned."

"Before I leave, owl, allow me to ask only this question: 'If my song is a silent song, who will hear it?'" Asked Eschel.

"Leave me now." Said the owl. "And peace be with you."

Eschel left the owl and began to fly home. "I must gather some berries before I return or my mother will know where I have been." And he began to look for some berries.

While Eschel was looking for food, rain began to fall from the sky. Eschel did not take long to find a berry, but by the time he made it back to the tree there was a great downpour.

To Eschel's great astonishment he did not see his mother in the nest. He looked over one side of the nest, and then the other side, but he did not see his mother.

Eschel did not know where his mother had gone. She was becoming older and could not fly far from the nest. Where could she have gone? The ground below was now far beneath the water. Eschel wished his mother was back in the nest.

Eschel wept.

To the other birds it might have sounded like Eschel was not saying anything, but inside he was calling to himself, "How I have overlooked the good in others! How I have overlooked the oversight of my mother! How I allowed myself to be deceived by my friends!"

As the rain came down, so too did Eschel pour himself out to heaven. "Please, do not take my mother from me!" He said.

Late in the night Eschel fell asleep.

When Eschel awoke the nest was empty. And he said to himself quietly, "Yes, just as I took the good in my life as nothing, I now have nothing. This is all as it should be. I have what I deserve."

In the distance he saw a older mockingbird approaching. She was carrying food in her mouth, and it was his mother!

Eschel felt as though he was snatched off the earth and taken up into the heavens -as if some giant had seized him and lifted him up into the sky.

Freeblay! Freeblay! Freeblay!

He called out.

Freeblay! Freeblay! Freeblay!
Though I am the lowest of mockingbirds...
Freedid! Freedid! Freedid!
I have been extended all things!
Freebliss! Freebliss! Freebliss!
No song will ever convey
Freeblay! Freeblay! Freeblay!
The joy that is now mine.

He told his mother about the way he flew with the other mockingbirds and how he had mocked the owl. His mother listened and responded:

"Yes, that is how it is for us mockingbirds. Most of us laugh, and the few who do not laugh weep because we have laughed." She paused and said, "But the song I heard you sing was something new to me -even in my age. Where did you learn it?"

"The owl did not teach it to me, but he told me how to hear it."

And so Eschel continued to gather food for his mother. As he searched in the forest he would occasionally sing,

Freebliss! Freebliss! Freebliss!
No song will ever convey
Freeblay! Freeblay! Freeblay!
The joy that is now mine.

The other mockingbirds heard Eschel's song and they said to each other, "This fellow is making light of songs that are not sung by birds!" And they called out insults against him.

But every now and then another mocking bird would hear Eschel's song and say, "A song that is not from any other bird!" And they would teach it to the other mockingbirds.

And to this day, when you hear a mockingbird, he is probably singing the song of another bird, but every mockingbird has his own song which he may instead sing.

Laundry List Christianity

A close friend once said to me, "I don't understand how the unchurched can stay married. They don't have marriage seminars or accountability partners. I just don't understand how their marriages can last!"

Although I didn't say it outloud, my response was, "I am amazed any marriage can last through those seminars and so-called accountability groups."

I can't speak for all marriage seminars, but most marital advice I hear is along the lines of:

Sure, love is a good thing to have, but you also need to be very organized
or
...you also need vast intellectual resources
or
...you need to kiss five times a day and talk for at least two hours and sixteen minutes
or
...you need to have a biblical view of the sacraments and of eschatology

The other day I was visiting the wikipedia article on Gothic Fiction and I wondered to myself what some of these characters would be like in one of these seminars or in an accountability group.

Consider Bronte's anti-hero from Wutherington Heights, Heathcliff. He was the one who desired a woman so strongly that he basically destroyed everyone who kept him from her. And then he destroyed the lives of their descendants.


What kind of advice would he receive at these so-called seminars?

If someone hurts your feelings, pretend like you don't care. Instead of making real enemies, make pretend-friends.

If your actions don't win approval from others, that's a red flag. You need to do more things that others approve of.

Be aware of other's rights. And don't physically hurt anyone.

In my mind, I can just imagine Heathcliff saying, "I was hunting down those who separated me from my Catherine, but now, instead, I will hunt down and destroy the lives of these phony people."

And of course people have responded in such a way. One recalls the murderer of John Lennon carrying a copy of The Catcher In the Rye. His point was, John: you're not fooling anyone. But most likely someone could have shot Mark Chapman and called him a phony too.

Punish the phony people. Check...

When I consider these seminars and speach-writers I think of those ancient sophists who sold knowledge at a price. Socrates used very simple, gadfly questions to demonstrate the educated had no advantage when it came to finding Goodness, Truth, and Beauty.

And the same must be asked of love. Does one grasp love better or become more loving by having more information? Or by reading more books? Or by following lists?

Is it not the case that these advantages are nothing and even a little child can easily discover love?

Consider the following passage written by an older Copenhagen judge, Vilhelm. Perhaps during his years as a husband he has caught a glimpse of the essential task in loving.

In education what matters is not that the child learns this or that, but that the spirit is matured, that energy is aroused. You often talk of how splendid a thing it is to have a good mind. Who will deny the importance of that?

And yet, I almost think one makes that for oneself if one wants.

Give a man energy, passion, and he has everything. Take a young girl, let her be silly, hysterical, a real chatterbox, imagine her falling deeply and sincerely in love and you will see that the good mind comes of itself, you will see how shrewd and cunning she becomes in finding out if love is requited; let her be happy in love and you will see ardour bloom on her lips; let her be unhappy and you will hear the cool reflections of wit and understanding ...
Vilhelm, Either Or.

His point is clear enough. People with full and meaningfull lives also seem to be rich in understanding, but an education itself is secondary to the task of living in a full and meaningful way.

In one of Plato's dialogs, the Meno, Socrates reflects on the way the seminar leaders of his day are unable to teach virtue. If virtue cannot be taught by human teachers he surmises that it can only be taught by the gods.

In the same way, the followers of Jesus Christ do not become disciples of love by listening to the peddlars of self-help lists and degree programs. To this end the Apostle writes, "Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God".

All the requirements hang on those two love commands. The final question everyone must answer to themselves: "Is love enough for me?". As soon as a person answers negatively he has opened the door to the laundry list lifestyle.

The Element of Love

There is something to do, therefore. And what must be done in order to be in the debt of love to each other? When a fisherman has caught a fish in his net and wishes to keep it alive, what must he do?

He must immediately put it in water; otherwise it becomes exhausted and dies after a time. And why must he put it in water? Because water is the fish's element, and everything which shall be kept alive must be kept in its element.

But love's element is infinitude, inexhaustibility, immeasurability. If you will to keep your love, then, by the help of the debt's infinitude, imprisoned in freedom and life, you must take care that it continually remains in its element; otherwise, it droops and dies -not after a time, for it dies at once-which itself is a sign of its perfection, that it can live only in infinitude.

Soren Kierkegaard
Works of Love
pp. 175-176

The way Kierkegaard describes the infinitude of love stands out to me. Human love always seems to set conditions like: "As long as you stay out of my way, I love you," And, "Just don't say anything stupid and I will care about you."

The love God demands of us is blind in the sense that it is to our neighbor. As long as a person remains our neighbor, we are required to love that person.

This seems so different in comparison to the way I generally love people.