[Please imagine Haddaway is serenading you with his sensational What is Love? (click the link for such a serenade as you read). It's Valentine's Day!]

Really, I’ve never loved Valentine’s Day. I especially don’t love it now that I’ve graduated the fifth grade and no longer receive Valentine’s cards and candy from every classmate. That was superb. But I think I prefer Arbor Day now.

[Were it not for Valentine's Day, though, we may have never had this, which had me bellowing in laughter yesterday].

As I ponder the “holiday of love,” I can’t help but notice our society’s lack of understanding of love. February 14 is the annual celebration of an ambiguous, uncertain idea that is defined differently by all.

Yet, for being such a curious concept, love gets a great deal of attention from us. It’s applied to almost everything–– television, chocolate, garments, and beaches. Every media expression has taken a stab at defining it, and philosophers have ceaselessly strived to put it into the most brilliant arrangements of words they can assemble. And all for not; a dominant conclusion has yet to be reached. The Pope says one thing while Gandhi, Johnny Cash, Dr. Phil, and Zooey Deschanel all say another–– all with a certain layer of mystery.

And the ambiguity doesn’t stop in Hollywood/ Nashville/ the Vatican/ the philosophical arena. It’s distinct in the lives of average Americans. In a contest going on today, the New York Times challenged readers to define love. Some compare it to the measles–– something necessary which is to be endured. Others call it “the only power that can change the world.” And some limit it to a hormonal reaction.The most popular Christian answer to the question of love is derived from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians.

Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.

[And, for me, here's the windfall of the holiday].

Most of us are quite familiar with this verse. Many of us, I’m sure, could use this as a reminder of how to treat our Valentine. But, more than that, I’d like to remind us of the One who is love itself–– the One whose character is a perfect canvas of the above characteristics.

Love is a man. A Man. Look no further, Haddaway–– there is a clear answer to your question. Jesus.

When He walked among us, He was a walking definition. “Love” was written all over him. He dealt a death blow to ambiguity and was a perfect representation of His Father, Who is love.

Let this Valentine’s Day be not only a time to receive chocolates and smooches and cards. Let it be a time to receive Love Himself. Don’t dance around philosophically obscure ideas of “love”–– one of the most used, but undefined words, in our culture. But rejoice at the definition–– Jesus. He came, in part, to diffuse so much mystery. And the mystery of love was one He made expressly clear through every action and breath, word and gesture, smile and frown.

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A BRIEF LESSON ON RELATIONSHIPS (of all types, shapes, sizes, and colors)

[Oh boy. Is this ambitious? A yet-to-be-married 21-year-old is about to offer the World Wide Web a lesson on relationships. Ambitious and premature, I say. You could probably get much better relational advice elsewhere, but here goes nothing...]

Since being in my relationship with my fiancé Bethany, I’ve learned a lot–– about myself, mostly. And I’m grateful for this. Though I’ve seen more of my ugliness than I ever knew existed, I never would have discovered it outside of the context of relationship. Relationships are one of God’s favorite contexts for refinement.

Early on in my relationship with Bethany (before the pet names had been decided or I passed gas in front of her), the Holy Spirit taught me something very important–– to reverse my pointer. Rather than granting myself immunity from wrongdoing, I began to question myself each time I was offended, irritated, or upset with her (which, being the gem she is, was very rare). I chose not to point the finger at her but, instead, learned to point it at myself.

When she would repeatedly forget the same lyric to the song she sung in the car, she wasn’t forgetting intentionally. She wasn’t trying to annoy me. The truth of the matter was that I was short-fused and easily-annoyed. I had an impatience problem which needed to be dealt with much more urgently than her lyric-forgetting problem did. I had no grounds to correct her. She was doing nothing wrong. When I reversed my pointer and examined myself I found that I was the wrongdoer, not her.

After experiencing initial success with this, I began applying it to my other relationships. Whenever a negative emotion arose toward another, I would delay my reaction and double check that I had the proper grounds to react in whatever way I was inclined. And, nearly every time, I discovered that I was much more guilty than the particular person with whom I was offended. My offense at the person was usually rooted in my [pride/ impatience/ orneriness/ coarseness/ you-name-it-ness] much more than it was the other’s action.

Over time, I was shocked to find that I was more ill-willed than I could have ever imagined and those around me were more well-meaning than I ever would have assumed. “Why the victim mentality?” I began to ask myself. How could I always be the right one? How could I always be the one who was wronged? Impossible! That’s a ridiculous notion! In fact, when I took a step backward, I was almost never right. Not once was I able to justify my offense. For, the behavior which most often offends me is usually mostly subconscious and sincere.

Much of my biblical ammunition for this concept came from Paul’s teaching to the Philippian church. “Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit,” he says, “But in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself. Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others.” (Excerpt from Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians).

I’ve begun to esteem the intentions of Bethany and others better than those of my own. I’ve reversed the pointer finger back at myself, first double checking my sincerity. Usually, I’m self-seeking. Usually, I consider my preference superior to those around me. And, in doing this, I’m acting through conceit–– which Paul warns against.

Now, I’m far from having it together. It’s not as if this understanding is a magical fix-all. It hasn’t been the universal cure for all of my relational problems. It hasn’t brought comprehensive relational harmony. I still fail. I commonly forget Paul’s exhortation. Out of habit, I react too quickly to a situation which ruffles me. However, I’ve been unable to form a good argument against this principle. If I do happen to pipe up and try to justify myself against it (i.e. “Yeah, but he/she…”), I end up scapegoating another to do so.

I want to go as low as possible. I’ll never regret humility. Never. The Lord is too good to mislead me that way. If He recommends humility, I must trust Him.

As Mike Bickle once said, “Lord, shock me now, not later.” Let’s have the same attitude.

[not very] Sincerely,

-a wretched, selfish, backbiting, arrogant, ambitious young man named Jules

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5. April; Kansas City, Missouri.

The above text messaging conversation is a specimen of my relationship, or lack thereof, with my fiancé just nine months ago. At the time, I was tirelessly striving to spend as much time as possible with her, despite her failure to reciprocate the effort. One of my chief tactics was to find a mutual friend who would join the two of us for coffee. The occasion was always intimate, but not too intimate.

On April 22, 2009, the day I had the above conversation via text message, Bethany and I were planning to go get coffee with our friend Deyvid Lam (we’ve now learned how to properly spell his name, as you can see). I had organized the afternoon get-together. However, when Deyvid went M.I.A. things went downhill.

Bethany texted me to confirm the day’s plans which, at the moment, were unconfirmed. I didn’t foresee the lack of decidedness in our plans as an issue when I received Bethany’s text message. With Deyvid’s presence yet assured, I was more than open to a one-on-one with the girl I had liked and sought after for months. In fact, I even considered initiating a D.T.R. conversation that day. Bethany foresaw things differently.

“I’m not hugely down to go if it’s just us,” she wrote, heartlessly. The message was a clear indicator of her lack of interest in sharing one-on-one time with me. Never before had Bethany shut me down so explicitly. This was a brazen act. She knew what she was doing and she wasn’t going to second guess herself.

As harmless and ordinary as the above text messaging conversation may seem, in the moment it proved to be quite pivotal. After Bethany made her intentions clear, it was up to me to decide whether or not I should persevere in my pursuit of her–– the pursuit I had conducted for the previous few months. Bethany’s behavior made her attitude toward the prospect of us plain–– she wasn’t interested. Was it time to quit? I pondered this question for no more than an afternoon (an afternoon spent golfing on an unkempt golf course with my shirt off to relieve the frustration).

The next day I was back at it. Text messages, coffee-date planning and all. I reciprocated her clear intentions with some of my own. I refused to lose.

Though I was prepared to fight for her well into 2010, within a month Bethany and I were an item. And soon, a few days shy of a year since the dreadful text messaging conversation, we’ll be getting married. It’s funny how quickly tables can turn. Jesus is a good leader.

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