By: Wayne Christensen
Yet again, I heard from another pulpit that unsettling maxim: Love is an act of the will, and not an emotion. Many pastors, apparently, concur with psychiatrist M. Scott Peck, who wrote in The Road Less Traveled, “Love is not a feeling. Love is an action…true love is an act of the will that often transcends ephemeral feelings of love.” On the surface, the maxim seems to smoothly land with self-authenticating insight: Of course, we must love all people, even our enemies as God commands us, but we can’t possibly be expected to “like”, for example, our cheating ex-husband or the close relative who abused us, can we?
The underlying presupposition upon which this maxim is built states that we have control over our wills, but not over our fickle feelings. Therefore, it makes perfect sense that we should do loving deeds, even towards those we inwardly dislike, those we may secretly harbor bitterness or anger towards. We think this explains how we can “love our enemies” (Matt. 5:44). So if we manage to restrain our fierce inclinations to “get even”, and then go the extra mile by doing something nice for the scoundrel, we congratulate ourselves. In fact, we believe this is the highest level of love, a love that “transcends ephemeral feelings of love.” While I agree that we are to act loving and considerate towards those we don’t like, I do not believe this is the pinnacle of love. I’ll be blunt: such unfeeling love falls woefully short of what God requires, and is actually hypocritical. Allow me to illustrate why I say that, biblically and practically.
Biblically, the apostle Paul instructs believers, “Let love be genuine.” Literally: “Let love be without hypocrisy” (NASB). What is hypocritical love? We could also ask about hypocritical worship or hypocritical charity or hypocritical martyrdom. They’re all related, since hypocrisy of all stripes is an external show or act that doesn’t correspond to one’s internal disposition or heart. The word hypocrite means stage actor or pretender. But our love is to be genuine, without hypocrisy.
The religious Pharisees are perhaps best known for their hypocrisy. On one occasion, Jesus said them, “You hypocrites! Well did Isaiah prophesy of you, when he said: ‘This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me; in vain do they worship me’” (Matt. 15:7-9a). Singing praise to God that doesn’t resemble the spiritual condition of one’s heart is hypocrisy, plain and simple. And the same is true of “acts of love.”
Think about the most sacrificial acts of charity and even the ultimate sacrifice, martyrdom. Paul said, “If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing” (1 Cor. 13:3). The world may stand in awe of such devotion that results from sheer will power, but God looks at the heart. And if the heart is devoid of love and sincere affections there is no spiritual gain, nothing that God will reward. God doesn’t reward hypocrisy.
Practically, John Piper observes, “If we dislike another person it will be impossible to consistently will the loving thing for that person. Sometimes we will simply forget to restrain our feelings and other times when we think we have willed the loving thing, our dislike will have sneaked in through a patronizing tone of voice or a depreciating glance” (article On the Possibility of Saying, ‘I love You, But I Don’t Like You’). Have you ever been on the receiving end of hypocritical love? Externally and outwardly somebody loved you, but you knew instinctively that their “love” came through clenched teeth. Most of us have had that painful experience, and we wanted to take their “love gift” and…well…you know. We shouldn’t be surprised if others aren’t fooled by or appreciative of our heartless, hypocritical love.
Instead of lowing the bar of God’s requirement to “love one another with brotherly affection” (Rom. 12:10), we should increase our dependence upon the Spirit to pour out God’s love into our cold hearts.
It was during WWII that two Dutch ladies, Bestie ten Boom and her sister Corrie, were arrested for their role is helping Jews escape from the Nazis. They were subsequently hauled off to a number of concentration camps, including Ravensbruck, where they experienced unimaginable cruelty, as well as the miraculous, merciful presence of God. Corrie was finally released from Ravensbruck, but her sister never made it out. She died just shorty before Corrie was set free. In the years that followed Corrie traveled all over the world and told others about God’s faithfulness. On one occasion she was speaking at a church service in Munich, where she recognized a former guard. This is how she describes the scene:
I saw him, the former S.S. man who stood guard at the shower room door…at Ravensbruck. He was the first of our actual jailers that I had seen since that time…
He came up to me as the church was emptying, beaming and bowing. ‘How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein.’ he said. ‘To think that, as you say, he has washed my sins away!’
His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often to the people in Bloemendaal the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side.
Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him.
I tried to smile, I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness.
As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me.
And so I discovered…. When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself (The Hiding Place, p. 238).