I recently read a quietly deep, beautifully written novel called Some Wildflower In My Heart (Bethany House Publishers, 1998) by Jamie Langston Turner. The story is told by Margaret, a deeply wounded woman who has spent decades closed off to love, relationships, and especially God. She ensures distance from others by being cold and unapproachable. Yet In spite of her brusque demeanor, she finds herself the recipient of the persistently kind, friendly attentions of a woman named Birdie with an inexhaustible capacity for love.
In the real world, anyone behaving like Margaret is sure to go to their grave friendless. But because one woman’s love for Jesus flows like an underground spring and touches everyone she meets, there may be hope for Margaret.
I try to imagine myself being persistently gracious and kind to someone who continually rejects the kindness. I can’t really see it. Could you? Would anyone you know continue to show acceptance and grace to someone continually cold and unresponsive?
What’s intriguing about this story is that it is told in Margaret’s point of view. If I were only able to observe Margaret’s outward behavior, I wouldn’t be interested in her story. But her thoughts tell a very different tale. What Margaret is only telling the reader is that she was inexplicably drawn to this kind woman. And that drawing rattled her. She tells how Birdie’s gentle, persistent love eventually broke past Margaret’s cold shell and brought warmth to the painful, neglected places in her heart.
After reading about Birdie, the phrase “Love keeps no record of wrongs” keeps coming to mind. I wonder if I could be anything like her, always quick to forgive the thoughtless words or deeds of others. Why don’t I simply turn the other cheek when someone is thoughtless or unkind?
Maybe it’s an accounting mentality. We are wired to keep accounts of what others have done. This is so typically human, isn’t it?
Please tell me it’s not just me.
Love keeps no record of wrongs.
Would Jesus go to God and complain about me behind my back? Would he criticize me for the mistakes I make (which are…ahem…numerous)? Avoid me when he sees me coming?
No. And not because I don’t deserve it.
Love keeps no record of wrongs.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails . . . And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:4-13
Faith, Hope, Love.
The Bible says that without faith, it’s impossible to please God. And humans need hope in order to thrive. But according to this scripture, the greatest of all life’s needs is love. This kind of love. The selfless, unfailing, “unoffendable” kind.
Can I really love this way? I mean, is it possible?
Maybe it helps to remember that since I am in Christ, there’s no “tally sheet” or file being kept on me. God keeps no record of my sins. Because of Christ in me, when God looks at me, he sees no offense, harbors no grudges.
Perhaps likewise, because of Christ at work both in me (his life-changing power) and for me (clothing me in his righteousness), I too can look at others and forget their offenses. Hold nothing over their heads. Give them a new clean slate every day.
The love of Christ keeps no record of wrongs. With his help, we can do it. And it seems only fair, since this—the way of grace—is how God (thank you, Jesus!) deals with our offensiveness.
Just my thoughts. What are yours?
Q: Do you desire the kind of love that keeps no record of wrongs?
Do I desire the kind of love that keeps no record of wrongs?
That’s a rhetorical question, right?
How about: Do I desire to offer others the kind of love that keeps no record of wrongs?
Ah … there’s the tougher challenge.
Yes, that was the question I meant. And ah, yes, what a challenge. But one I accept, only because it’s fair, in light of what I’ve received. We’ll see what happens…
Camille, I adore Jamie Langston Turner. I met her once, and she is just as beautiful a person as her writing would lead you to think. Her stories are deeply powerful, as you said. I was also struck by the quiet strength of her stories. No Dark Valley is my favorite. And, I echo Beth’s comment–Yes, I desire to love that way. Because I have been loved that way. And that has made all the difference.
Brandy, I’m a new JLT fan! I want to read them all. I’m afraid her books are out of print, but I can get them for Kindle. I’m curious to know if she’s still writing, I’m not seeing anything to indicate that. I will put No Dark Valley up next on my TBR list. Her writing is of a rich style and depth of story that I love to read and hope to write.
In fact, the last book I wrote and am hoping to publish has a heroine with a very similar issue, and I struggled with some readers not liking her. I hope her inner heartbreak is there for the reader to see and root for. Because we humans can only see so much, and base our judgments on what the outward limits us to see, but oh, thankfully, God looks at the heart!
That is my very favorite Bible verse! ^_^ I think it is also one of the hardest things to do sometimes. I know I certainly fail, but I try. That books sounds like a wonderful read, I may have to see if the library has it. Thanks Camille. ^_^
Oh, I guess that means I have to turn my copy back in. 🙂
I often fail, but will keep trying, with God’s help. 🙂
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