This past week I spent time on a Texas lake relaxing, swimming, chatting, and riding in a boat while other people wake-boarded and tubed and otherwise founds ways to be dragged behind the boat and laugh about it. I envied all of them their perfectly healthy shoulders* and terrified joy.
The highlight of my day was likely this moment when a dog climbed into my lap to take a nap. Diet Coke in my hand, wind in my hair, my kids having fun, and a dog?! Magic.
My lake friends have a 5 year old daughter. She’s brave and single-minded and pretty much ready to slap on some skis (but not quite). Recently they found this “ski-trainer” to pull behind the boat and help her learn. It’s a float/tube with skies built into the bottom. She puts her feet into bindings (just like skis) and holds the rope (just like with skis) but the rope isn’t attached to the boat (a parent holds it) and between her legs is an inflated seat she can sit on if she gets tired of standing. It looks like this:
We tried it. She loved it. For twenty minutes she rode behind the boat—a skier in the making. According to her, she’s a skier already.
I’ve been thinking since then of the value of training—of how powerfully sort-of doing something can prepare you for actually doing something. It’s important that sort-of doing the thing requires the same skills as actually doing the thing. Otherwise, you end up with bad habits and no actual preparation.
Last week our daughters were talking to us about dating. One of their friends had said he’s planning to date often and early as practice for being married.
London asked, “How will your girlfriend feel about being your practice wife?”
When she relayed the exchange, London admitted that she’d almost bought her friend’s argument—dating did seem like decent practice for marriage. “How am I going to practice if I don’t date?” she asked.
(We haven’t told our kids they can’t date—just that they can’t date until they’re old enough to consider marriage because dating is for the purpose of finding someone to marry. So maybe 17, 18? We’re flexible and, given our experience, not totally opposed to marrying young.)
I smiled at London, our daughter who loves preparation and planning and doing things well. “London,” I said, “Two things…”
Dating is good for picking someone to marry but it’s terrible practice for being married. Mostly because it’s nothing like being married. The point of dating is to figure out whether or not you want to stay with this person or jump ship. The work of marriage is figuring out how to stay with this person, no jumping ship allowed. They are fundamentally different things.
If you want to practice loving your spouse, love your sister. You’re stuck with her. Learn how to love her no matter what.
London nodded her head. This made sense. The way to learn to love others is to learn to love one other wholly, unconditionally, selflessly, in sickness and in health.
Now, thinking back to my mom speech, I think there’s actually a better answer, a ski trainer answer.
If you want to love people, first learn to love God.
Most of us learn to love people by trying to love people. Which means, we probably have bad habits. Why? Because loving people is dangerous (People are a mess. They have too many expectations of others, They’re bad at forgiveness. They get jealous and competitive. They forget your birthday and mistreat you in front of your friends). In protecting yourself from all that danger you learn to love the wrong way—your form is bad.
If you learn to love God first, God who isn’t messy or selfish or rude, you learn in the safety of his unconditional love.
Loving God is like the ski trainer—it’s different but similar, way easier, less dangerous, and learning to do it builds all the right skills and muscles.
Want to love other people? Follow the example of the greatest command—love God first. Love others second.
Order matters.
-JL
*My shoulder is still recovering from the tragedy of dislocation.
What I’m working on…
I have a book coming out the first week of November! Authors are bad at knowing the quality of their own work; having said that, this is my favorite book of all the books I’ve written. It’s about the thing that’s most central to who I am and how I live, and I absolutely geek out about it when I talk (I’m quite adept at working it into every conversation).
It’s about loving God first (and a way to read the Bible to help us fall in love).
Examples:
A few days ago I found myself in a conversation about space exploration, billionaires, utility and wonder. We were talking about how humans generally prefer/prioritize utility over wonder—”How can I use this to my advantage?” is a question we’re always asking. “Wow” feels like a luxury.
Everything instinctual in humans asks the question, How is this good for me?
Anyway, ten minutes in I’m waxing poetic about how worship/wonder can actually be a “utilitarian” way of interacting with the world—we don’t need to stop looking for the usefulness or the potential; what we need is to shift our priorities from our own glory and good to the good and glory of God. “How can I use this to God’s advantage?” or “How is this good for God?” often leads us into the act of wonder & worship (and some interesting and countercultural strategic action).
A few days before that I found myself in an hours long conversation about how bad humans are at suffering. We avoid it all costs, and when it comes for us (as it always will) we moan and wail our way through asking “Why me?” (though frankly, the more difficult the suffering, the better people seem to do—case in point: martyrs).
Anyway, ten minutes in I’m waxing poetic about how love changes the way we suffer, about how suffering for my kids, for example, can even feel good—staying up all night preparing for a birthday party, cutting the budget to save for college, getting the flu because they had the flu and (in love) I wiped their noses and cleaned up their vomit. I love them, and so suffering for them isn’t too bad. It feels good and right.
“What if we loved God?” I ask. Wouldn’t we be better at suffering?
The above essay which was not originally about loving God and now is.
Bottom line: I think all of life is about loving God. I think if you do love God, you’ll be sturdy, brave, assured, joyful, and able to navigate the world in the most life-giving way.
Be on the lookout for the book drop! I’m jazzed (insert jazz hands).
P.S. Between now and then the number one thing you could do to get this book in the hands of people who need it is this: Help me grow this email list! This is the primary place I’ll be talking about the book AND it’s a good place to get a taste for my writing. If you love The Goodness, 1. You’ll love my next book and 2. You should tell someone about it!
I heard a comment in a podcast recently that really stuck with me. Instead of being in the world for God, followers of Jesus need to be in God for the world. It's a change in focus! I'm looking forward to the book release!!
Thank you. I enjoyed reading this so much. ❤️