Returning to Love

I sometimes wonder what Jesus saw when he first called the disciples. Because if we're honest, they don't always look like the most promising group. They misunderstand him. They argue with one another. They miss the point repeatedly. They become frightened when storms arise. They abandon him when things become difficult. Peter denies even knowing him. Thomas struggles to believe.

Again and again, the disciples reveal themselves to be wonderfully, frustratingly human. And yet Jesus calls them anyway. Not after they have figured everything out. Not after they have proven themselves. Not after they have become wise, courageous, and faithful. Before. That is what strikes me.

Jesus seems able to see something in people before they can see it in themselves. A fisherman becomes a leader. A tax collector becomes a disciple. A doubter becomes a witness. Ordinary people become bearers of extraordinary grace.

But none of that happens immediately. Most of it unfolds slowly. One mistake at a time. One lesson at a time. One failure at a time. One act of courage at a time.

The older I get, the more comforting I find that. Because many of us spend our lives waiting until we feel worthy. Until we feel confident. Until we feel prepared. Until we feel successful. Until we finally become the person we think we are supposed to be.

But the disciples remind us that God rarely waits for any of those things. God begins with us as we are. Not because we are finished. Because we are loved.

I suspect many of us carry the quiet belief that love must be earned. That we become worthy through accomplishment. Through service. Through faithfulness. Through getting things right. Yet the Gospels tell a different story.

The disciples were loved long before they became disciples. Loved when they misunderstood. Loved when they doubted. Loved when they failed. Loved when they got it wrong. Loved when they ran away.

And somehow that love became the very thing that transformed them. Not perfection. Not achievement. Love.

Perhaps that is still how God works. Perhaps we do not become lovable by changing. Perhaps we change because we discover we have been loved all along.

And perhaps that is one of the hardest truths to believe. Not that God loves humanity. Not that God loves other people. But that God loves us. Right now.

Before we become who we hope to be. Before we accomplish what we think we should. Before we finally get our lives together.

The disciples never really stopped being human. Neither do we. Yet they remained loved. And so do we.