One Oar Faith

We’re told to love God and love others. Seems simple. But I’m going to outright confess that the second instruction can get excruciatingly tough for me sometimes.

Loving God, seeing his goodness, this isn’t what trips me up. It’s his people that trip me up. (Last I checked, I’m a person, so I include myself in this category.)

I often find myself stretched with how I love others. I’m drawn to humble hearts, folks willing to admit brokenness and imperfection. (I also happen to like people who have a keen appreciation for laughter.)

The hardest people for me to love are the pious; the prideful ones screaming about the splinters in my eye as I silently stare at the lumberyard in their eye. Even as I’m wounded by these types of people, I’ve been through enough to understand I can learn from them—their behavior. I can choose to live differently and love all the same. This is growth in the big leagues.

So what’s with the title, one oar faith? When I was thinking about the day to day struggle of loving God’s people an image formed (yeah, this tends to happen a lot…probably why I slid into my career as a writer).

A rowboat. I’m in it. And when I’m loving God, appreciating his sovereignty, his unending, grace-filled love, I’m pushing the boat forward with one oar. On one side.

Do you see it?

I’m moving in circles with that kind of faith—that one oar practice of Christianity. I’m trusting God, but not the settings he’s placed me in or the people he’s plopped in my life.

Don’t get me wrong, both oars are in the boat. I’m able to reach down and take hold of the second oar at any time, but it tends to cramp my hand when I grip it, the wood splinters against my palm, and water splashes all over me when I pick up that oar and utilize it. In other words…it hurts.

Loving others hurts. But here’s the cool thing about that. There’s a verse in the Bible that says to consider it an honor whenever we identify with Jesus in any way. It’s impossible to imagine how deeply Jesus was injured by man (and still is). Words don’t cover it so I won’t try. The point is he gets what it feels like to row with both oars.

And you know what I hear him whispering to me? Pick up both oars. Full speed ahead. It’s time to move forward.

Big league faith. Both oars. Raw, cramped and bleeding hands, drenched body, upper arm muscles pulsing and aching with exertion.

And somewhere on the break of a wave I’ll be reminded it’s in loving others that I’m demonstrating my love for God.

Can you relate with my one oar vs. two oar image? What helps you when it comes to loving difficult people?

*photos by flickr
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