As a human being, I feel that I know enough about love to speak about it with authority. My mantra has always been to show and give love, always. When I attended church I lived by it, and since I left, it remains with me. I wholeheartedly believe that there’s no situation in life which needs any other.
I’m not a parent. I’ve never been given the responsibility that comes with bringing new life into the world. Yet, I know what such a responsibility is, above all. To love your child deeply and unconditionally. All else falls into place. You feed them, clothe them and care for them, because to do otherwise would be unthinkable. You celebrate their successes more than you would your own. You cry with them when they fail. You protect them from the evils of the world. You are always there for them, no matter what. You will always love and accept them, whoever they grow up to be.
This is what we call unconditional love.
To be given it is to know the most precious gift in the world. I may not be a parent, but because I have a mother and had a father I know what one is.
You may wonder why I am going to such lengths to prove the above statement. Of course, I’m being as longwinded as always (<.<;;) but I wanted to create the solid foundations which my opinion needs to stand upon regarding an issue which has become so important to me lately.
Whatever you’re doing today, pause for a moment and remember Salmaan Taseer.
This gentleman, the governor of Punjab province in Pakistan, gave his life this week in the pursuit of justice. Mr. Taseer was killed after working to repeal the country’s blasphemy laws under which Asia Bibi, a Pakistani Christian woman, has been condemned to die for the sake of her beliefs.
A member of Mr. Taseer’s own security squad assassinated the governor on Tuesday at Kohsar Market in Islamabad.
Picture the scene. It’s the week before Christmas and today is bitterly cold. Even though it’s not yet evening, darkness has well and truly fallen. If you braved the wintry weather tonight, you would soon see the stone walls of a church by the sea. Warm lights shine out invitingly from the windows and make patterns of the churchyard trees on the new-fallen snow.
Then, suddenly, the lights go out. If you went inside right now, you would see people of all ages lining the walls of the church, each holding an orange with a lit candle. The tiny lights show little else but the face of each bearer. And they all begin to sing.
Hands up – coming clean – I am a Christian. The chances are, you wouldn’t know this about me unless you really know me. I have never been the type to stand on a soapbox to proclaim my beliefs for all to see. I don’t even share them with other Christians (unless asked) because in my 26 years of being a follower of Christ I have encountered more hate, rejection and derision inside a church than out of it.
That being said, I am still a Christian. I call myself an unconventional one, and this is why.