Covered with Love

In my world, creative thoughts are conceived in the busyness of life, but birthed in silence while my computer and I sit and stare at each other. It’s like we’re inside the idea waiting room for writers expecting someone to come in with a birth announcement.

One morning, Mr. iMac and I were in the writer’s waiting room, expecting the other person to think of something to write. Or for someone to burst through the door with an announcement. “It’s an idea! We have a new little idea. Congratulations! Haven’t picked a title yet, but it’s about 1,200 words long.” That wasn’t happening, so we just sat there. Soon, iMac drifted off into sleep, his screen saver slowly closing.

With iMac slumbering, my eyes drifted up to the wall near my desk. I noticed three holes in the wall. Someone had attempted to repair them by filling the holes with a joint compound called Spackle. The quality of the craftsmanship told me it was either me or a monkey with a can of play dough who had made the repair.

Then I heard my wife coming down the hallway. I glanced again at those holes; then I heard it, rather we both heard it. iMac’s screensaver faded and his screen lit up into a vibrant white glow. I sat up in my chair and listened. Both of us could hear a newborn idea crying in the distance, ready to be crafted into a new blog post.

My wife walked by the room, stopped, and looked through the open door at me. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied without taking my eyes off the computer. “Why do you ask?”

“It looks like you’re just sitting there staring at the computer.”

“I am. That’s called writing.”

She walked in behind me, placed her hands on my shoulders, and looked at the computer screen.

“You haven’t typed anything. The paper is blank!”

“I have to write it in my head first.”

Her facial expression said, “Tom, that sounds weird.”

“Yah know,” she began. “You could do something a little more productive and fix these walls.”

“Fix? They don’t look broken to me. They’re still vertical and standing firm. I think that’s in the Bible. I remember some passage about standing firm. I think that’s talking about walls.”

“That passage is not talking about walls. It’s about people standing firm in their faith.”

“Oh,” came my well thought out response.

She continued, “I’m talking about the holes in these walls.”

“Walls are supposed to have big holes in them,” I said.

“Honey, those are called windows. I’m talking about little holes, like the three right there in the wall by your desk. She pointed to the three marks I had worked on.

“I already fixed those. Look at the Spackle.”

“Spackle, what’s Spackle?”

It was time to impress her with my knowledge of home repair techniques. “Spackle is a joint compound. It’s like putty. You use it to fill small holes in walls. When it dries, it turns a white color.”

She looked closer at the poorly repaired holes, reaching up and running her fingers over them. “Why is the spackle in one hole sticking out and in the other two holes its recessed beneath the surface of the wall?”

What happened next wasn’t my fault. Before I could stop it, my mouth started talking.

“That’s called spackle art. It’s an impressionistic sculpture that lets people contemplate different realities. Don’t get it confused with the classic spackle sculptures Michelangelo worked on.”

She smiled and said, “Ok, I’ll play along. Tell me, what’s the big one called? The one sticking out of the wall?”

“I call that one Mount Vesuvius. You know, like that volcano in Italy that blew up and wiped out the city of Pomegranate.”

“I think you mean Pompeii.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s what I meant.”

“What about these two? The ones that are indented. They don’t come out flush with the wall.”

“That’s my interpretation of Dante’s Inferno. You know, like two of those circles that go downward.”

My wife is very patient.

She leaned over and kissed me on the top of my head. “I love you. I know you will think of something to make those holes look better.”

It was several hours later when she returned to see what I had done with those spackled holes in the wall. The holes were no longer visible. Instead, she saw a framed pictured hanging on the wall covering the spackled holes beneath it.

“You hung our wedding picture over those holes?

I could tell she was impressed.

“Why didn’t you just fix the holes?”

I was ready for her comment, “Because I’d rather cover them with love. Our wedding picture was a good choice for that.”

Another kiss came my way.

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Covered With Love

I had this plan for a devotion titled, “Covered With Love.” It’s one of my favorite lessons from the Bible. It’s taught in both the Old and New Testaments: Proverbs 10:12, love covers over all wrongs and 1 Peter 4:8 love covers a multitude of sins.

However, I ran across this idea that many people believe; people I love and respect, that “love is just a chemical reaction.” I don’t have enough training to write about neurochemicals like dopamine, cortisol, and oxytocin. I’ll just share some of my thoughts on the topic. If you want to talk more about it, drop me an e-mail. I’ll do my best to be open and listen and learn.

I don’t believe love is just a rush of neurochemicals to go out and mate for the continuation of our species (imagine that greeting card on Valentine's day). I believe science can measure those chemicals during specific events. However, there are just too many events in life that require unpleasant sacrificial acts of love, such as raising a family, caregiving for older adults, or taking care of people with intellectual disabilities. Certainly not all the time, but there are times raising a family where the dopamine just isn’t flowing.

Jesus taught us to love our enemies, even if they’re attempting to discontinue our species, starting with you. I don’t see how that type of sacrificial love can be motivated by anything other than obedience.

Then there’s the loss of freedom (I heard this in a lecture where the speaker quoted Kierkegaard, the Danish philosopher/theologian.) If it’s all just a chemical reaction, then we are nothing more than slaves, slaves to our brain chemistry. I don’t want to give up my freedom of choice to chemistry.

I better stop here because the tank is empty. I will conclude with a quote from Dane Ortlund’s fabulous book, Gentle and Lowly: “Jesus is love covered in flesh.”

What better example to follow than the God-Man, Jesus, who lived a life of love and gave his life, to cover us with love.

May we all attempt to love sacrificially, like Jesus.

Amen