“The language of love is the only language we can be sure is spoken and understood by God.”
—Northrop Frye, 1912-1991
“Now you’re speaking my language!” If you said this to me, I would assume a shift had occurred in our conversation.
Before the shift, the things I was saying meant little or nothing to you, for any number of reasons. After the shift, I’ve got your attention. What I’m saying now is compelling and relevant. It speaks to your condition. It aligns with your vision of how things ought to be and of what matters most.
God’s language is love. I believe that what God finds compelling, more than religious enthusiasm, more than right belief, more than the good causes for which we advocate, is love.
But what’s love? This is a central concern in my academic work and my ministry: identifying what we are talking about when we talk about love and then…doing it. Loving.
But just as it’s often easier to talk about God apophatically—identifying what God is not as a way of explaining what God is—so it might be easier, from time to time, to name what is most certainly not love.
Do you speak God’s language—the language of love—fluently?
If you cannot listen to others’ ideas with openness and curiosity, you might not be speaking the language of love.
If you do not listen to your body and overwork yourself to the point that you become useless to the people who most need you, you might not be speaking the language of love.
If you think you are entitled to your resources and do not recognize yourself as a steward of them, you might not be speaking the language of love.
If someone asks you for an apple and you give them an orange, because oranges are nice too, you might not be speaking the language of love.
If you walk past broken glass on the sidewalk but don’t bother to clean it up because “I didn’t do it!” you might not be speaking the language of love.
If you cannot celebrate others’ achievements and talents because you fear they will undermine your own, you might not be speaking the language of love.
If you cannot ward off distractions and focus on what the person right in front of you is saying—and truly hear them, including what is behind their spoken words—you might not be speaking the language of love.
If you decide to ignore what’s happening in the world because you’re just so damn tired of all the fuss—because you have the luxury of ignoring the fuss—you might not be speaking the language of love.
If you cannot allow people to be who they are but are perpetually inclined to mold people into your own image, you might not be speaking the language of love.
If you refuse to entertain the possibility that you might be a little prejudiced, not even a teeny tiny bit, you might not be speaking the language of love.
If your response to the injustice around you is to reassure yourself that God is in control and pray for God to act, and then you do nothing to alleviate said injustice, you might not be speaking the language of love.
If you refuse the help, critique, and guidance of others because you don’t want your own limitations and weaknesses to be exposed, you might not be speaking the language of love.
If you feel love toward someone, that’s nice, but you might not be speaking the language of love.
Are you becoming more conversant in the language of love? How do you know?