Chairs

And so we know and rely on the love the Father has for us.

I was reading through 1 John the other morning, and when I got to this verse I started thinking about chairs.  The connection is quite obvious, right?  Ok, so maybe it’s not, but it’s the first thing that popped into my head.  I started thinking about two kinds of chairs and how one might approach sitting in those chairs.

If I approach a delicate antique chair, with antique spindles, and a worn out seat, I am very wary of sitting in it.  If I must sit in the chair, I will very gingerly and slowly lower my weight onto the seat.  My body will be rigid, and I will constantly be conscious of every creak and movement of the chair—listening for that faint sound that indicates a crash to the ground is imminent.  All of my attention will be placed on discerning the security of the chair moment by moment.

The story is entirely different if I’m approaching a sturdy chair with thick legs and a plush cushion.  There will hardly be a moment’s hesitation or thought as I move to put my weight in the chair.  There is no doubt or worry or anxiety about the chair’s ability to hold my weight.  There is no need to remain aware of the distribution of my weight, or to keep my feet solidly on the ground in the hopes of reducing the load on the chair.  On the contrary, I can nestle into the chair and comfortably pull my feet off the ground, allowing the chair to fully envelop me.

As I reflected on these two types of chairs, I found myself asking, which chair more accurately represents my perception of the Father’s love?  The love John is describing is a love that is strong and firm and large enough to lean the weight of our lives into.  A love that never fails or collapses.  A love that evokes complete confidence and trust, and a love that bestows rest and peace.

If I’m perfectly honest, there are many times throughout my days where I see the love of the Father as that antique chair.  I’m afraid that it cannot withstand the weight of my sin, my imperfections, my doubts, and my cares.  I’m afraid it won’t be enough to fully support me.  And so I hover over the love of the Father, feet planted on what I view as firm ground, weight lightly resting upon it, listening and watching for any sign that this love is not going to be enough.

Living my life in this way robs me of so much that the Father wants to bless me with.  It robs me of peace, joy, and rest.  It keeps my emotions and thoughts too firmly planted in the details of day-to-day living.  It stops up the flow of grace into my life, and clogs up the healing flow of love.  As John warns in verse 18, “The one who fears is not made perfect in love.”

The call came sweetly and gently again that morning.  Come.  Know.  Rely.  Sit.  Recline. Rest.  Lean into my love and find it is more than enough to support the weight of this life.