I sometimes sense fear in myself, trying hard to earn it, to think there must be something more, something I have to do to earn God’s Love. Yet when I die, I know I’ll feel only an overwhelming sense of, “I had it all along.” I will weep and laugh with gratitude, joy, and relief when that happens.
What is it in me that loves separateness and conditional love? That’s not God’s love. It’s more like all the unloved moments from my childhood, where I took upon myself the burden of becoming lovable, rather than reveling in my already lovable nature. That voice which says I have to do certain things to prove myself worthy is not the voice of God. It is perhaps, the fearful voice of my dad who valued the independence and success of his kids above most other things. That wasn’t all bad, by the way, it just wasn’t complete.
But suppose I buy fully into this other kind of love, making one big bet of my life on this one thing. What becomes of my life then? It’s almost impossible to imagine, it’s actually scary that way. But I also know that it’s good. Can I imagine a life with love flowing throughout, so unreservedly and uncritically? Loving myself. Loving others. Feeling loved by myself and others for loving others. Hm. That’s not so bad, is it? Uncertainty and unfamiliarity are a small entrance fee to a life of that quality.
But separateness, the belief in that. What comes? More of what I’ve already got too much of. Expectation, loneliness, judging myself and others, harshness. And beneath it all, sadness. Longing. Ironically, I’d be surrounded by exactly the people I’d most want to love and be loved by, but they wouldn’t know whether they’re safe with me. It would be more of the same. But I think I’m ready to be done with the same old thing.