I just finished a truly amazing, year-long class on prayer. In the last session, we took the Myers-Briggs personality test to help us discover which prayer methods might be the most fruitful for us. I learned I am an ENFP. In my results, I read the following:
“Needing to find meaning in everything, the NF needs to know that they are uniquely loved by God . . . and that they are accepted by God as they are now, sins and all. NFs need to be assured of this daily.”
Yup. That’s me. Daily.
I don’t know about you, but for me, it is so easy to slip into this mentality that God is unhappy with me, that he is holding my imperfections against me, that I am somehow “in trouble” with him. And yes, I need to be constantly reminded that I am his beloved daughter and that his tender, fatherly love for me isn’t withheld because I am not perfect. Of course, my sins grieve him. But it’s because of his love for me, because those sins hurt me and others. He’s not up there saying, “I’m gonna get you!”
Last month, I promised you a continuation of my discussion on friendship, focusing on the wisdom of St. John Paul II. But then I realized there is a lot to say about JPII, love and friendship, and it really wouldn’t make a lot of sense to jump into the middle. More sensible, and probably overdue, is to spend a few months looking at the entirety of his thought — a series on his beautiful Theology of the Body.
For those unfamiliar with the term, the Theology of the Body was a series of talks that St. John Paul II gave in the early years of his pontificate. In them, the Holy Father goes deep into Scripture to give us what he called an “adequate anthropology,” a study of ourselves as created in the image and likeness of God, especially a study of ourselves as created male and female in his image. It is the most beautiful exegesis I have ever seen on God, love, sex, family, community, friendship, sin and redemption.
And it all starts with God’s love for us. All of us.
St. JPII starts with the creation account in the book of Genesis. Remember how God created the sun and the moon, and it was good? The day and the night, and it was good. And then, after all of that, he created Adam. And he said, “And it was very good.”
Of course, now would be a good time to remind you that Genesis, as theological myth, is a work of theology, not science or history. So, the point here is not how the earth was created or how long it took. The message for us is in how God uses the story to reveal himself to us. As such, it isn’t just about Adam. It is about each of us and what the Genesis account shows us about our relationship to him.
And what does it show us? That Adam was very good. That his creation is different from the rest. The Vatican II document Gaudium et Spes says, “Man, being the only creature created for his own sake, finds himself only in a sincere gift of himself.”
Let’s look at the first half of that. “Created for his own sake.” God didn’t create Adam because he needed Adam. God needs nothing, what with being God and all. He created Adam because he loved Adam and wanted him to exist. And he created all the rest of creation—the beauty of the earth—for Adam’s sake, as a gift of love.
And so, because Adam is us, God created you for your own sake, completely out of love. He created the beauty of this world and the good things in your life as a gift to you. And he loves you. Not just in a “you’re someone, and he loves everyone” kind of way. But uniquely, personally. He knows you better than you know yourself. He has counted every hair on your head. He knows your every thought and what happens in your heart. And he loves you with an infinite, tender, personal love. He loves you as if you were the only person he created.
You. Yes, you. Exactly where you are right now. Even if you feel far away from him. Even if you are “locked” in sin. Even if your prayer life isn’t what you think it should be. Even if you’ve never had a prayer life. He loves you, and he longs for a relationship with you.
There is a book I have loved for years: He and I, by Gabrielle Bossis. Bossis was a French woman who lived in the mid-20th century. A very holy woman who believed she heard the voice of God speaking to her. And no, he wasn’t telling her to bet on the Mets or to smite her enemies. He just spoke of his love for her. And, by extension, for all of us. You can believe the voice was legit or not. But the messages were beautiful:
“The unfolding of my love in you is my personal happiness; I’m waiting for it. Everything that affects you touches me personally . . . Then why should I alone desire this close union? Don’t you also desire it?”
Yes, he’s that close. Everything that affects you affects him. When you are hurting, he feels it. When you have a bad day, he shares in it. When tragedy strikes, he and his love are right there in the midst of it.
Of course. Would any loving father experience any less? When his child is in pain, that pain becomes his pain. They say a parent can only be as happy as their least happy child. God the Father loves us even more than an earthly father could. Of course, God doesn’t experience emotion the way we do. But in becoming man, he fully joins with us in all our human experience. So he does, in ways we can’t fully understand, enter into our joys and our pain with us.
As a Father who loves us, he naturally desires to be in relationship with us, to have that “close union.” Again, what father wouldn’t?
The depths of his love are very difficult for me to comprehend. Thus, they are material for lots and lots of meditation. I would encourage you to join me. Spend time with him. Tell him you want to know him better and that you desire that relationship. Ask him to show you the depths of his love for you.
And then listen very, very closely.
