Love Talks by Dayne E. Mazzuca

Better to say something to the few than nothing to the many

The temptation is to speak to a crowd. People blessed with the gift of the gab (however you package, prime it, or present it nowadays) love a crowd. Of listeners. They don’t like noisy crowds full of elbows and meaningless banter. They love a quietly poised audience, attentive to what might come next. Or… a quietly seated reader anticipating the page turn. 

This is a good thing. Writing. Being heard. Talking. Being heard. Thinking out loud, creating, pondering, inventing. And being heard.

In the Digital Age this becomes more complicated, with its high noise level and permanent crowd presence. The temptation is to speak, even if we have nothing to say. We want to be heard by the many, not the few. We want followers and reposts and hits. We want to go viral.

But going viral is a very different thing than really being heard.

When love talks, it needs to be heard. This means talking to the few, ideally one.

One lone person attentive to our words. This is love in action. This is what we need. We do not need to go viral, or become a best seller (although nothing against success!). If 1,000 people hear, it makes us feel good. But if one single person really hears, it will change both of us, the listener and the speaker/writer, because there’s a genuine life-giving exchange. There’s immediate feedback. We know we’ve been heard and accepted and that we matter. This is life-changing. We walk a little taller and feel stronger, more connected, more loved.

But to tone it down; to write only one letter to a dear friend or relative; to speak meaningful words up close to someone we care about, this is challenging for natural-born communicators such as we are. We can handle rejection when it’s large-scale, impersonal or even professionally delivered. But when we speak the language of love in an intimate setting or tone, and we are not heard… we recoil and retreat and eventually retaliate. It’s not good.

But love is not soft. It is strong and brave and whole. And it can take a risk. It can speak up and say what is on its heart. It can, in fact, change the whole world. If we speak to one person at a time, or to the many recognizing that no matter how big the crowd, or how high the readship stats, they are still people. Individuals who matter, and souls who thrive on listening well and receiving love as if they were the only person who mattered.

Theologically, this is one of the most exciting things about being a Christian. God speaks to us as if we were the only one who mattered. He takes the time. His words are intimate and personal. He is patient and tender; and uncompromising. He is love.

Learning the value of having something to say to the few rather than saying nothing to the many is important as Christian writers, if for no other reason than it mirrors the mystery of our very own relationship with the living God. And that’s gotta make a difference. To someone.

A Beckoning, by Natasha Erskine

In moments of great peace, I am often walking down a path toward the ocean, with fields of tall green grass rising on either side, with warm rays of sunshine shining down on my face, a cool sweet breeze blowing my hair... In these moments, God’s love speaks loudly to my heart, beckoning me towards praise, drawing me in to the mystery of a good God, more vast and majestic than the mighty ocean and the expanse of the sky.

But this life allows for many different kinds of moments where Love beckons us to listen, to see and know. There are moments of great light, and mountaintop nights as well as moments of great darkness and degrading pain. All of these moments can be characterized by grace, and they move in and out of every season of our lives.

What does God’s love say in the darkest of moments? How does it beckon?

Behold, the Lord’s hand is not shortened, that it cannot save, or his ear dull that it cannot hear. (Isaiah 59:1, ESV)

In every moment, Love has the opportunity to speak. Love speaks in the glorious rays of sunshine, but also in the dark caves and pits of despair we experience along our way... I have known low moments, like when I stood over my husband’s dead body, holding the hand of the man I loved as the last bit of warmth drained from his skin. Moments like holding my daughters through weeping and fear, devastation and loss. I have sat at the bottom of a deep dark pit, surrounded by grief and despair. And still, I heard love speaking...

I might have assumed that being surrounded by darkness would naturally coincide with a separation from the love of God, despite my knowledge of Romans 8:38-39. I might have assumed that anger and guilt, fear and despair would have driven my God away, making me unlovely in His sight. Unworthy of His holy presence. And yet, in the silence of deep sorrow, Love spoke with sovereign and divine authority, fully present and engaged with the deepest part of me. In the horrendous cry of grief and unbearable pain, love spoke with the authority to heal and restore my soul. In the expression of anger and guilt, the fear of abandonment and loss, love spoke with the divine authority to claim me as His own… Beckoning me nearer.

In each and every moment, Love has an opportunity to speak. Love speaks tenderly in the darkest of places. And Love has the authority to speak into each moment, beckoning us, in all circumstances, through every experience, to know the God who reigns on High, in great glory and power, with His sceptre extended in justice and mercy, with the sovereign authority to reach into your moment and beckon you nearer... changing you into the image of his Son, honoring you with His Name, and bringing change and power to bear on your life (Graham Cook).