Dear Sister Ellie,
I understand the pain you are going through with regard to the loss of the one you love but who could not love you back. Love, unfortunately, is not easy and often times cruel; I know this from experience and there is no way to refine it. It's confusing and when you are rejected, after being so invested, your life seems to fade a little and the colours all seem duller. Even small rain showers feel like a Noah-like flood, and you find yourself questioning your worth and value. And then, strangely, when you've given up hope, when all seems lost and dreary, you finally wake up with a gift, which I call perspective. Then, slowly, in what seems like an eternity, you begin to put those feelings on a shelf, where they belong; and where your ex, like mine, has put them.
At that moment, you can finally see the truth and accept it for what it is; they don't love you, don't want you in their lives, and you must move on with yours. You have to be as clear about this because, in the end, though it might seem trite to say so, the truth is, without a doubt, the real loss (and the real loser) is his, not yours and not you.
When you do, Ellie, you will realize that your self worth is not defined by whether or not someone loves you, but by "your" capacity to love and your willingness to do so. That capacity to love, however, is also a function of your capacity to hurt, too. It's what separates people like you and me from the rest of humanity and what defines us as the sons and daughters of God. As it is written "... for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God." (1 John 4:7).
Because you can love, you can hurt; the ones who can't are already dead and are beyond our power to help or be helped by. That said, sister, please don't try to run from your pain. Instead embrace it, as I did. Hold it close, and accept it for what it is. Eventually you'll get tired of it, and cast it away like an old toy, because there is no joy in it. Like needles, it hurts when you draw it close and then draws blood. Before long it loses its attraction. And when it does, give it to God. Let Him take it and heal you.
I say this with understanding, because I believe that you cannot give to God what is not really yours, includign your pain. But when it is yours, fully and completely, when you truly own it in all its ugliness, only then can you give it away as fully as once did your heart.
That seems to be the foolishness of the human condition, doesn't it? How such a powerful feeling as love can be so easily torqued and twisted into an equally powerful thing such as pain. We humans, lost in our world, give love but embrace rejection. But we have this backwards, don't we? We must, rather, embrace what we give away, and give away what we once embraced.
That's the secret. Real love, however you understand it, is not really lost when it's given, anymore than pain ever lessened when we hold on to it. You, therefore, did not lose your heart when you gave it away, you found it, because that is what gives love its meaning.
Like gold, buried deep underground, it has no worth just sitting there. It needs to be brought up, refined and purified in the light, before it's ready to be appreciated and truly valued. But unlike gold, and other natural resources, love is naturally renewable; it comes in an unending supply from our Father in Heaven.
Pain, though, is not. It existed after love, after the Fall of man in the Garden of Eden. It is a foreign concept to this world, much as death and suffering is, and only exists when we let it. That's why Jesus says "....I am come that they might have life, and that they might have [it] more abundantly." (John 10:10).
Foolishly, if not selfishly, however, many people won't give up their pain without a fight, it seems. Indeed, in an effort to avoid claiming ownership of that heartache many souls, even now, choose a far more difficult path. These are the ones who pour drink and drugs on the pain, to numb it, in a vain effort to keep it at a safe distance. Others go further , rushing from one meaningless relationships into another in order to drown out the rejection, instead of facing it with courage and dignity.
God, however, wants our pain as much as our praise and our love; that's what Calvary is about, at least in part. He took our death, our suffering, our judgment, our condemnation, our eternal pain, and destroyed them there. Give Him, therefore, I pray, your pain now. Give Him, also, your loneliness, your shame, your sadness, your grief, your rejection, and your regrets too. Say unto Him "I don't want this anymore, I want to be free" and our God, the God of Liberty, will take it, and leave you with the one thing you thought you lost, love, which He gave you in abundance; an abundance that will never ever run out.
Like gold, buried deep underground, it has no worth just sitting there. It needs to be brought up, refined and purified in the light, before it's ready to be appreciated and truly valued. But unlike gold, and other natural resources, love is naturally renewable; it comes in an unending supply from our Father in Heaven.
Pain, though, is not. It existed after love, after the Fall of man in the Garden of Eden. It is a foreign concept to this world, much as death and suffering is, and only exists when we let it. That's why Jesus says "....I am come that they might have life, and that they might have [it] more abundantly." (John 10:10).
Foolishly, if not selfishly, however, many people won't give up their pain without a fight, it seems. Indeed, in an effort to avoid claiming ownership of that heartache many souls, even now, choose a far more difficult path. These are the ones who pour drink and drugs on the pain, to numb it, in a vain effort to keep it at a safe distance. Others go further , rushing from one meaningless relationships into another in order to drown out the rejection, instead of facing it with courage and dignity.
God, however, wants our pain as much as our praise and our love; that's what Calvary is about, at least in part. He took our death, our suffering, our judgment, our condemnation, our eternal pain, and destroyed them there. Give Him, therefore, I pray, your pain now. Give Him, also, your loneliness, your shame, your sadness, your grief, your rejection, and your regrets too. Say unto Him "I don't want this anymore, I want to be free" and our God, the God of Liberty, will take it, and leave you with the one thing you thought you lost, love, which He gave you in abundance; an abundance that will never ever run out.
As mercy triumphs over judgment, as life triumphs over death, so too does loves triumph over rejection. Love is of God and, therefore, eternal. Pain, though, is of the evil one, and like him it goes to destruction.
That is why I rejoice in you and in your struggle, for I see in it your victory. I see, in fact the light of God shining there, in your darkness, much as it has shone in mine. Darkness, like pain, is temporary; it is weak and fragile, and all of it combined cannot drown out the power of a single candle. Indeed, darkness flees from even the smallest, weakest light, because it cannot understand it nor can it ever hope conquer it. Love, though (as someone else wrote), is far "greater than any candle." Love, my dear sister, can ignite the stars.
That is why I rejoice in you and in your struggle, for I see in it your victory. I see, in fact the light of God shining there, in your darkness, much as it has shone in mine. Darkness, like pain, is temporary; it is weak and fragile, and all of it combined cannot drown out the power of a single candle. Indeed, darkness flees from even the smallest, weakest light, because it cannot understand it nor can it ever hope conquer it. Love, though (as someone else wrote), is far "greater than any candle." Love, my dear sister, can ignite the stars.
God bless.
In Christ,
I.M. Ulysses.
