Tall, lean, with large, elegantly boned hands and a well-groomed mustache, he was completely opposite my small, round, long haired and beskirted self. A well-fitting brown jacket and trousers, a black linen vest and a white shirt, rounded off with a burgundy bow tie of all things, and topped off with a silver pocketwatch chain, black hat, and briefcase, made him look so very much older than 22. And as I sat opposite him at our little table in the University Center, I was struck by one thing; he looked, he spoke, he acted like a man.
And he proved himself to be one. He didn't only stand up when a lady left the table or eat his lunch fastidiously, he also revealed himself to possess a profound, deep, adult faith in God, one most people don't achieve their entire lives.
To me, he was perfect. And utterly deserving of love.
I spent a couple of weeks completely starry-eyed. He couldn't do or say anything wrong in my view. The three days a week that my best friend, through whom I met him, and I would have lunch with him at school became the highlights of my week. I began attending the Latin Mass community where he and his family attend. Actually, I really could take up volumes on the things God has taught me in the last few weeks that I never would have learned had I not met Mark and began attending Saint Michael's...but we'll focus on the most important one, because it relates to the Greatest Commandment.
How to love, both God and those around me.
As time went by I began to notice that this sterling young man did indeed have his tarnish. After all, we are all sinners. Not one of us is perfect but Christ, no matter how we may feel about a person. I'd never go on a litany of his faults, but this young man does possess a few, and while they may endear him to me, they irritate our mutual friend to no end.
My good friend Mark is indeed deserving of love, as are all God's creations. But he is not perfect. And as much love as Mark is deserving of, Christ is even more deserving of my love.
If I can fling myself with abandon into caring for Mark, who is flawed, if I can feasibly consider the idea of following an imperfect man to the ends of the earth...then how shall I feel about Christ? Should I not fling myself into love for Christ with even more enthusiasm? And since I already know where He leads me, to salvation and rest, through green pastures and beside still waters, why should I be unwilling to follow Him to the ends of the earth?
We seldom think of love for God in terms of the way we're taught to think of romantic love. There have been days where, right at lunch, when the campus is abuzz with people walking to and fro, I've wanted to hop on top of the clocktower and yell out how amazing I think Mark is. Why should I be any less willing to do that for God? Or at the very least, in situations that would require me to speak up about my faith, or to show it by example, why should I shy away?
If I place Christ at the center of my love then the way I look at Mark, for the time being at least, must also change. This dear young man may seem utterly perfect in my eyes...but it may not be God's will that he and I should be more than dear friends. I don't know what God has planned for me. My poor human heart has a hard enough time figuring out what He wants of me right this moment!
But I love Mark. As hard as I have tried to remain Miss Elinor Dashwood about this whole thing I can't help but feeling an ache worthy of Marianne whenever I'm around him. Simple, silly, foolish me! I feel utterly ridiculous that I so love to make him smile, that my breath has caught the few times our hands have touched.
And so I have had to learn how to love. I have had to learn how to love my Lord with all the enthusiasm I can muster, and to never place a mere fellow human above Him in my heart. (And actually? When I'm regularly attending Mass, praying throughout the day, and reading and studying deep, weighty theology...that hasn't been difficult. God, after all, asks nothing of us that He doesn't also give us the means to achieve.)
And I've had to learn how to love Mark, that dear, dear young man, as my brother in Christ.
And I will confess, my friends, that has been hard.
