Love Is Not An Emotion

From The Christian Reader;

Love is Not an Emotion


by Robert Andrews



(This is Part Two of a series. Click here to read Part One.)





My dad was a man of few words, and I never remember hearing him tell me he loved me. One weekend when I was in college, I made an unscheduled trip home. My parents were not expecting me, and as I came into the house unannounced by way of the back door, my dad was standing in the den with his back toward me. He heard the door open, and turned to see who was there. This occurred almost forty years ago, but I can still see my father’s face as clearly as if it were only yesterday. As he turned and saw me, his only son, standing before him, his face, so indelibly imprinted upon my mind, said more than all the “I love you’s,” he had a hard time saying. It said more than all the expensive gifts that my parents were able to buy for me. It was as though someone had turned on an electric switch, and his face came alive with the incandescent light of love and joy. I knew my father loved me with all his heart. He could not have convinced me otherwise if he had tried. If he had told me he didn’t love me I would have laughed at him. You cannot manufacture loving actions. They only come from a broken, repentant heart that recognizes and embraces one’s own lack of selfless love.



Love is time



Little children can’t understand that missing a dance recital or a little league game in order to close a big sale or attend an evening committee meeting will sometimes be necessary. Although it does not necessarily mean that a child is not as important to his parent as those other activities, in a child’s mind, having his mother and father present at what is important to him means that they love him, and that he is the top priority with them. To him, all time with Daddy and Mommy is “quality time,” and the more the better.



My parents were always on the front row for everything I did as a child, from athletic events to school plays. I know it must have often been boring for them, because I never excelled at what I did, particularly in high school. I was a very small fish in an extremely large pond (there were about 1000 in my graduating class), but they were always there to watch me sit on the bench at basketball games and play a bit part in the school play. When I was in college, they often made the 250-mile round-trip to Norman, Oklahoma for the three-game baseball weekend home series in hopes that I, a seldom-used relief pitcher, would get in the game. They were always supportive, always building me up, always encouraging me to do the best that I could do, even though I was never outstanding in anything. The mediocrity of my athletic career was monumental!



Because of the model my parents gave me, Jill and I have attempted to share our children’s lives with them as much as possible. We have attended countless ball games, ballet, piano, violin and gymnastics recitals and school graduations. We have been to a full range of school plays and other various and sundry dramatic productions. I have coached all three of my children on four separate athletic teams for a total of eleven years, and taught them all in school as well.



Just as my parents communicated to me that I was top priority in their lives, we have tried to do the same with our children. They are our heritage, and in their lives is deposited all that we are. We were there for all the significant events in their lives, and, as a result, they have a sense that their accomplishments are a continuation of a family heritage. The Andrews heritage that we have attempted to pass on includes a recognition of our continual sin (sin that will be with us until our bodies are glorified) and not hiding from it, ignoring it or pretending it is not there, but facing it head on and openly repenting. From that basis will come the dominion of the kingdom of God. The joy of watching Adam already pass that same heritage along to his children is indescribable.



Love is compassion, not leniency



Compassion means to “suffer together,” or “to feel their pain.” Jesus was constantly “moved with compassion” toward those around him. The difficulty in being faithful to train our children does not come from too much compassion for them. How can we “suffer together,” or empathize, with them too much? To suffer with our children as they experience the painful process of becoming men and women of God is to follow in the steps of the One who so empathized and identified with us that He bore our sins for our eternal salvation. We cannot have too much compassion for our children.



The problem comes as well-meaning parents not only empathize with the pain and pressure that their children are facing, but when they go one step farther by attempting to alleviate that pressure. At the first sign of discomfort the “compassionate” parent says “there, there,” and often removes the pressure or lowers the standard that is causing the pressure, causing the child to continue on his course unchanged.



God uses the pressures that come into our lives to face our own sin and then to change us, and His standards must not be lowered. To do so is to confuse compassion with leniency, and does our children a terrible disservice. At my daughter’s Christian high school, the teachers were fond of “extending grace,” and giving the students “a second chance.” As a result, many students were poorly prepared for college. They had not learned that accountability, with its resultant sanctions, is a fact of the kingdom because compassion was confused with leniency.



There are a plethora of ways we as parents confuse leniency with compassion—not spanking firmly or consistently or not at all (“I love my child too much to sank him”), bailing our children out of tough situations they have gotten themselves into; relieving financial pressure they have brought upon themselves, etc. That is leniency. The standard is kept high and we suffer with them as they are disciplined to attain it. The old saw “This hurts me more than it does you,” is very true of one who has genuine compassion for his children.



Love is firmness, not harshness



Firmness and harshness are equally as misunderstood. One of the aforementioned teachers said to me, “Why are you so hard on Ramah?” I tried to explain that I was hard on her because I expected her to do her very best at whatever she attempted. Her tendency in high school was not toward doing that. The bolts of “doing everything heartily as unto the Lord” need continual tightening, and until Ramah was mature enough to tighten those bolts herself, it remained my job.



At one point Ramah said to me, “What’s wrong with B’s, Daddy?”



“Nothing,” I said, “if that’s the best you can do. But you can make A’s.”



Ramah went through high school with my size 11’s squarely in her back. Her resultant grades were good enough to help defray college expenses. Now that she is in college diligence in her studies continues to be an area where she must constantly remind herself to focus, because it doesn’t come naturally to her. However, she is now mature enough to do that herself, with occasional reminders from me. Firmness is demanding the maximization of potential, and I want to be firm with love and tenderness.



On the other hand, I never want to be harsh with my children. I don’t want to raise my voice, to be angry, demeaning or unreasonable, only demanding. I want to keep the edge of displeasure out of my voice, while I demand that they maximize every bit of ability God has given them, in every area of their lives, for the glory of God. This is the goal, but my inconsistency gives the Lord plenty of opportunity to be strong in my weakness!



Satan has often tricked parents into being lenient and harsh with tragic results; we must learn to repent when we are not compassionate and firm.



These characteristics of love cannot be produced by the numbers. They are the results of genuine love that flows unconsciously from the heart, surprisingly, not because of self-effort, but because of embracing the reality of the lack of genuine love that resides there, then repenting and casting ourselves on God as parents who are helpless sinners.



To be continued…