Love

I have an old journal of mine. It's from first grade. I was six, and I had to keep a journal for class. I wrote all sorts of odd little things, some of which make no sense to me now, but I'm sure they meant something at the time.

My journal entry for February 7, 1985 was "Love is no fake." The letter "o" in the word "Love" is a heart, of course. I'm not sure what made me write that. I have to wonder what we were studying in class. Maybe we read from Corinthians that day?

Whatever the case, I think about how true that sentence is. On February 7, 2008 I went to El Salvador, meeting up with my parents in Houston. We landed in San Salvador and headed to the orphanage by taxi, and when we got there we were greeted by children who immediately hugged us. They immediately hugged me, even though they didn't know me at all. And I see how true it is that love is no fake.

While I was in El Salvador, I met people who told me about how they came to know God. What stood out to me is that they all spoke of God, of Jesus, touching their hearts. And I knew what they meant. I knew that feeling of finally knowing in my heart, where it truly matters, that all of this stuff is true, that it has the power to change a life. That God is no fake.

I sometimes wish I could make more sense when I talk about God, when I talk about what He has done in my life. But how do you explain what happens in your heart? How do you explain a change that makes no logical sense?

I guess the only thing to say is that, at some point, God touched my heart. And, at that point, it all made sense. Even though it made as little sense as the love those children showed to me, a stranger. But, that is love. It makes little sense, and yet, it is real.