The Love Chapter

For now we see in a mirror dimly but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known. But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love. I Corinthians 13

We, like so many others, had this chapter read at our wedding. It has always been one of my favorites, but lately, it’s become even more important to me. Later on in the blog, I’ll share my version of the chapter. It may be meaningful to you, or you may think it’s silly, but it was a good thing for me to do. In the Kay Arthur study I’m doing with some of the ladies back home, we studied a great deal this week about abiding. I want to abide in Him and Him in me, but that means He is absolutely allowed anywhere He wants to go. For me, that means He is allowed to see the dark places where I’m not always so happy to have Him roaming around. It’s not just that I’m ashamed for Him to be in those places—He might try to take some of them away from me. Then where would I be? Let’s see….cleansed, purified, fruit-bearing. Oh, yeah…that’s where I’d be. Don’t you sometimes wonder why He doesn’t just throw up His hands in exasperation? Lately, I wonder on a daily basis.

It was an interesting weekend. On Saturday, we went to Metro Kievskaya, which is on the ring line of the metro system here in Moscow. Because Stalin knew visitors would be more toward the center, the metro stations on the ring are unbelievably beautiful. We’re not allowed to take pictures for security reasons, but if I could, I’d do it so you could see the premium Russians put on making places beautiful. Anyway, we went to the crystal bridge, which is a pedestrian bridge enclosed in glass that goes over the Moskva River. It was beautiful, and for about two hours on Saturday, it was sunny. We were all like dogs who stick their heads out the windows of cars in order to let their ears blow around. We stood and just soaked in the sun on that bridge. Then we went shopping at a huge mall where they sold $40 slippers. I don’t think so, my friends. Fortunately, we found some at IKEA for about $4. The big news of the day was that Sarah Beth was approached on the metro by a very handsome young man who, unfortunately for him, did not recognize that Sarah Beth’s Mama (she was standing on the metro in front of my seat) was with her. He came and put his hand on her back, proceeded to introduce himself, explain that he and his friends had been noticing how good-looking she was, and wondered if she would like to…at this point in the very one-sided conversation, I sat up, explained that I was, indeed, her Mama, and that she didn’t speak Russian, and she wasn’t going to go anywhere with him. He immediately removed his hand from her back, stepped backward, put his hands in the air, and returned to his friends. Sarah Beth’s Uncle Larry whittled her a beating stick with her initials on it back at ILC, and we brought it with us, but I didn’t know she was literally going to have to take it with her everywhere she goes! The other big story of the day was our conversation with a very, very nice woman in a different mall from the one at Kievskaya. We were on a quest that day for a pot in which to cook chili and chicken and noodles—our two favorite meals. Not finding one at the Kievskaya mall, we went on the metro back toward home to Novie Cheromsky, where they have a more Russian kind of mall, with lots of little kiosks, etc. The kids and I went into a toy store while Marc when into the kitchen shop next door. Since the walls aren’t exactly walls, I could hear Marc say, “Mya schena,” which is Russian for my wife, so I knew I needed to head over. The lady who worked there, and who was extremely nice, was talking to Marc about a pot. I wasn’t sure the pot was big enough for what we needed it for, so after introducing myself, I asked if she thought the pot was big enough to cook “chorista”—chicken. Unfortunately, I was actually asking if she thought the pot was big enough to cook cinnamon—chorista—instead of chicken—curista. She was obviously puzzled, and it had been a long day, so I simply abandoned all dignity, and much to the horror (and amusement) of my children, I flapped my arms like a chicken. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, your cooperative program dollars at work. In my defense, she immediately knew what I meant. We didn’t buy the pot—it was about $150, which was cheaper than the $300 pot to its left—but we did make a good memory and amuse a nice Russian lady.
Some days, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, but I’ve tried crying, and it doesn’t make me feel any better, so I guess laughing is all that’s left. What is there to do but laugh when you’ve just made the chicken wings in front of God and everyone? Nothing. That’s what’s left.

As I said before, I Corinthians 13 has always been important to me, but while I’ve been here, it’s been especially important. Because of that, I spent some time one day re-writing it for my situation. Lest you think that’s blasphemous in some way, please know that I’m certainly not suggesting that Paul and I are somehow on the same inspired level. I don’t. But I do believe from my own experiences that there is great power in taking God’s word and directly applying it to my own situation. I’ve done it countless times, praying God’s word right back to Him. It does a couple of things. First, it helps to hide His word in my heart. It also reminds me of the promises God has made to me, and it helps me to claim those promises as my own. With this chapter, it reminded me to love above all else in the midst of a time that has tried me, stretched me, and broken me in many ways. So here’s my version of the love chapter.

If I speak perfect, grammatically correct Russian, but I don’t love the babushka on the elevator, my language skills are just noise. If I have the gift of discernment and the faith to move my family across the world, but I don’t love that family with every breath, I’m nothing but a fraud. If I sell my possessions to go on mission, and I walk mile after mile in order to fit the IMB’s weight restrictions, but when I get on the field can do nothing but complain that Russians aren’t Americans, then all that work and sacrifice are meaningless. Love is patient as the children (and their parents) transition, it is kind to those around it, it is not jealous of what others are accomplishing. Love doesn’t brag about language acquisition and is not arrogant about God-given skills; it doesn’t act ugly or always seek to have its own way. It doesn’t easily become angry when the children are not perfect, it forgives them their moments of transition, it isn’t glad when someone else gets “what they deserve.” It rejoices when the truth is spoken, bears up under the stress of a totally new life and identity, hopes that each day will get a little easier for all of us, endures the trials of transition. Love never fails. Gifts of discernment will fail, and my spoken Russian will never be perfect, and my knowledge of the universe seemingly grows smaller each day. For I’m only human, and I can’t always see the big picture—just my tiny part of it. But someday—someday!—I am going to see the whole plan, and I’m going to understand all that has happened, is happening, will happen. When I was a girl, I spoke and thought and understood like a girl, but then I became a woman and I put those things away. Now I can’t see anything clearly, but when I meet Jesus face to face, all of this will make sense to me. Someday, I will know Him as well as He already knows me. Now all around me are faith, hope, and love; and the best of these, the one I must choose every single time, is love.

Blessings to you and yours!
His,
Kellye