In the middle of reading Love Does, by Bob Goff, I found myself on the floor of my boy’s bedroom sobbing. I literally fell to the carpet and asked God to help my selfish heart expand past where it currently is. It felt like the pages of Love Does had been etched on my heart long ago and hearing the words again made me remember.
Bob’s narrative of extravagant love captivated me from the start. I smiled when he recounted the story of the outlandish requests of a love crazed stranger who asked him for his help in proposing to his girlfriend. A unexplicable trickle of tears fell to my cheeks he described the bold lengths he was willing to go to get into law school, despite being under qualified — but it was the part about how his small children made a real difference all over the world that sent me over. They did it as a family.
Like making room. It requires us to set up our lives in such a way that carves out space to be available to DO those things that meet the needs of others. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, relationally. Holistically.
It doesn’t have to look like spinning up non profits and making huge financial contributions. It’s as simple as a whimsical gesture when it’s not expected, a hand written note to an old friend in a hard place, practicing hospitality by making our homes a safe place where people can come to be seen and known.
Love Does is a great big invitation into living passionately and loving extravagantly. Into taking action instead of sitting on the sidelines believing someone else will meet the need. It’s a call to stop planning how we will make a difference one day and actually get out there and do the stuff.
Getting off the bench and stepping on the field scares most of us. I know it does me. We are scared of the cost and sacrifice. The emotional energy, time, personal comfort and a host of other resources that living a life poured out demands but when I read the pages of this book I was stunned by the tangible joy Goff had. I could feel it — and it made me jealous.
So right now I’m saying yes. It’s a weak “yes”, but it’s a yes nonetheless, and I’m hanging onto it with all my might until it transforms into a way of life someday.
Who’s with me?