A Love to Rule All Loves

This past March, I had the opportunity to attend a women’s retreat through Franciscan. I knew little about the retreat prior to attending, aside from what I could garner from its name, “Capture My Heart.” It sounded a bit too touchy-feely and girly for my taste, but after a strange course of events, I found myself in a room with yellow curtains at a monastery in rural Pennsylvania, adjacent to a herd of cows. 

Though I could say plenty about the incredible healing power of the weekend, I would like now to focus on one particular encounter centered around, oddly enough, this crown: 

One of the most memorable and moving parts of the retreat was the gifting of crowns to each of the participants. I was deeply moved as each woman was crowned. The delicate circlets—garnished with brightly-colored ribbons and faux flowers—remind us that we are daughters of God. 

As daughters and sons of the King, we are princesses and princes. It’s already happened, so we may as well wear the crowns to flaunt it. My good friend Abby recently shared with me an incredible insight from a book she is reading: Our primary identities are as sons and daughters of God. We should define ourselves by our filial relationship with Him before all else. Yet, because we are all human, we all have the unfortunate tendency to place other definitions first. Instead of “daughter” or “son,” it’s “girlfriend” or “boyfriend,” “best friend” or “parent.” Worse, we not only define ourselves by these lesser roles, but we deliberately choose things of this world over God. We lust after recognition of our beauty, or strength, or intelligence, while God waits for us to respond to His invitation to dwell in His love. We fail to define ourselves as His children.  And we mistakenly refuse the Love which exceeds all loves. C.S. Lewis writes, in his The Weight of Glory:

[I]t would seem that Our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

How appropriate that Lewis speaks of us as foolish children. God has chosen us to be his children, but we are far too easily pleased. The God of the universe loves us each individually, infinitely, and beautifully, yet we are content to place our worth in anything else that might bring us recognition. As Alanna Boudreau sings in “Heart of the World,” I often find myself begging of God:

Forgive me, forgive me, my one constant Lover./I’ve chosen far lesser loves over You.

I have chosen mere attention, a sour taste of true love, over Him. I have chosen  recognition of my physical beauty. I have chosen lust, and inviting speech, and the promise of intelligence, and alluring books, and earthly food over Him. I have chosen countless lesser loves! But whatever lesser loves draw our eyes, they will never compare to the love He already has for us, His beloved children. We’ve all experienced the incredible desire to be loved in some capacity. Our hearts are made for love—not the artificial “love” of the world, but the authentic Love of God. Consequently, we cannot be satisfied with the attention of anyone but Him. Our God longs to claim you as His child. 

Let Him. The Lover awaits.