You see, Child, love doesn’t try to make a relationship happen, but it opens wide the door for the possibility of one. Love stretches out its arms in a gesture of welcome. From all the letters you’ve sent me over the years, I can see you are learning a lot about love. You used to live loving the law, but now you are living the law of love. Living according to what you thought was right made you judge others according to your standards. You mistakenly believed you were living a higher standard than the ones you were judging. That was the way you controlled them. The letter of the law kills, but love brings life. Love is a verb, not a noun. It is always active, living itself out in practical ways, not wanting to be noticed.
You have met some of my sons and daughters, but you didn’t get a chance to meet them all, because you moved from home at such an early age. I’m sure you remember my eldest son, Josh. I was especially fond of him. I know you weren’t around when it happened, but I remember writing to you a few months later. Although it was many, many years ago, I can remember that day like it was today. I had written several letters to people like you, who live all over the world, and I needed to post them. Josh was home from school and he saw how occupied I was with writing letters, so he asked if he could do anything to help. Instead of stopping and going to post the letters myself, I decided to keep writing and gave him the ones I had already finished to take to the post office. He was happy to do that, and decided since it was such a nice day he would walk.
I was sitting at my desk that looked onto the street, and could see him on the driveway about to cross over. I also saw our next-door neighbour’s child on his bike. He was heading down the driveway too quickly to stop before reaching the road. Josh saw this, too, while noticing a truck coming at a very high speed. Racing towards the child on the bike, Josh threw himself in front of the bike, but was not able to stop the truck from hitting them. I ran outside, only to see my Josh lying lifeless on the pavement, blood splattered everywhere. The child was also lying on the ground whimpering and still alive. I picked up Josh’s dead body in my arms, his blood covering my hands. I gently laid him on the grass and went over to the child. Seeing that no bones were broken, I picked him up with those bloodied hands and gave him to his parents, who had come running out of the house. As I turned around I could see those letters scattered all over the road. I went over and picked them up, one by one, Josh’s blood staining them. I sat down next to Josh’s body, and felt like I had died that day. The truck never stopped and I found out later the driver was drunk.
What’s interesting is that only a few days before, Josh and I were having a conversation about death. A subject most people avoid talking about, due to its uncertainty, but ironically, its great certainty. I had given Josh a scenario about having to die in order to save someone. I asked if he had to make that choice, what would he do? Without any hesitation, he said he would die for that person, trusting he would have the courage to follow through. Then I proposed an even greater challenge, asking if he would die for someone who didn’t deserve it? Again, without hesitation he said he would be willing to die for such a one. He added, and I’ll never forget his words, “Father, when that happens to me, I hope that you would forgive them.”
A few days after Josh’s death, I went to the post office with those blood-stained letters and posted them myself.
You see, my dear Child, the question you need to ask yourself, and I would encourage anyone who wants to know about love, is not what is love? But rather, Who is love? Child, I am LOVE and LOVE is Me!
Love,
Abba Father
(Taken from “The Treasure Within” book by Kathy Gooch; Chapter “God is Love - Love is God”)
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