I was thinking about how we love the things that those we love, love. Does that make sense? We come to love the things that are dear to those we love because they are dear to the ones we love. So we care about social justice, about helping the poor and oppressed, about human trafficking, about spousal abuse, about inner city violence, about war and peace, about loving our neighbor, about our own well-being, because these things are on God’s heart. Because he cares about them, and because we care about him, we come to care about the things that he cares about.
I looked back at the years when Ally and I were together, and I realized that we didn’t really do this. I love to play sports, and to play music; she loved to play hockey and to dance. But over the three years of our relationship, she came to see me play soccer once; she heard me play music (outside of a church context) once or twice; I saw her play hockey once and I went dancing with her … less than once. We didn’t share the things we loved with each other; or at least we didn’t take an interest in the things the other person loved—I know that was true for me, anyway. And that was probably a good gauge of how the relationship was, even though things seemed rosy otherwise and we seemed ‘compatible’.
If I don’t share my life with the ones I love, if I’m not taking an interest in the things they love … I’m worse off.