always choose love

I saw him as soon I as pulled into the parking lot. He was ridiculously tall and his long beard faded to white right around his waistline. His leather pants were tucked into lace-up to-the-knee leather boots. Crowning a ponytail of curly hair was a leather cowboy hat. Draped over all of that leather, a fire-engine red, vinyl jacket read Salvation Army. He was strumming a teal, plastic, child's guitar and singing at the top of his lungs.

I couldn't wait. Before I even stepped out of my car into the store, I picked up my phone and called Steve. This sight could not go undocumented. I had to share. I wasn't even sure why, but I knew it was important. I knew that it meant something. It's been a rough week, friends. Filled with academic deadlines, big questions and heavy conversations. Steve was delighted that I shared this moment and we talked about the heaviness and the light.

But this man ringing a bell in a parking lot, this preposterous sight made everything feel a little lighter. I wondered, upon seeing someone so clearly alive, so utterly, joyfully different: how had I come to worry about so many things this week?

I am learning that love and fear go hand in hand. And I have made a decision:

Always choose love.

Each day is made up of a million tiny choices. The moments before each decision, especially larger decisions are generally what bring fear. The anticipation, the analysis, the over-analysis, the beating of the horse formerly known as Analysis.

I went through the checkout, piling my laundry detergent into the cart and realized that I was standing directly between the two store exits. My car, outside, was also right in the middle. Which exit do I choose?

I realize that this is a small decision. Stick with me here. I promise, there's a point.

I considered my options. I knew that the man in the leather was outside one of the doors, singing loudly with his plastic guitar. The other door, though likely occupied by another Salvation Army bell-ringer, was not likely to be so loud or preposterous. How do I explain this to you? I think you'll understand. This is a small thing, but there was some degree of fear in choosing the quieter door. I mean, if I chose the likely less eventful door, I wouldn't have to face, well, any kind of event. I could just go about my kind of difficult week and quietly walk to my car. And somehow, I just knew that there was some degree of love in choosing the door with the man & guitar. If for no other reason than that this decision wasn't motivated by fear. I chose not to be afraid of an event, an encounter with this bizarre man. Albeit a tiny, seemingly insignificant choice, but a choice towards love nonetheless. I chose love.

I pushed my cart over the loud tiles in the lobby, felt the gust of hot air on my neck just before the automatic doors opened. I crossed the threshold and dropped my quarters into the red bucket. The man gently touched my arm. He looked at me with the wisdom of one who knows many, many stories. He smiled widely and told me that all of it doesn't matter. Well, most of it doesn't matter. He drew with his words the rich image of people sitting around a Thanksgiving table, sharing what they are thankful for and he said to me again that even those things, even those good things don't matter. My eyes filled. He drew me into a hug and said to me,

"Love is all that matters. God loves you. Love is all that matters. I love you. Love is all that matters. Have a blessed Thanksgiving."

It was exactly what I need to hear. And it was confirmation from the Father. Choose against fear and love will come to you. Always choose love.