If I had written this sign, I think I would have said: “We shouldn’t define the relationship, the relationship should define us.”
Relationships are hard. I am not a psychologist, but I still feel completely qualified to state that relationships are hard, because they are.
We want our relationship—be it familial, parental, marital, friendship, or whatever, to be what we think it should be to fit our needs. We don’t want to admit that, but it’s true. We want the other person to show us they care. We want them to give us what we need. We want the relationship to be perfect naturally, and we don’t want to put a lot of work into it (unless we just want to at that moment and feel that it will be well received). But we want that person to be there for us when we need them, and not when we don’t. And we want them to know the difference, so it doesn’t get uncomfortable. Because being uncomfortable is well… uncomfortable.
But more than anything, we want to be wanted. And we want to be appreciated for all we do, the sacrifices we make, and the extra things that we do to show the other person we care. And if all of that isn’t working smoothly, (which unfortunately sometimes means to our liking) we sometimes think that we should walk away from the relationship.
I have done a deeper dive into my thought processes on relationships in the last ten plus months than I would ever have cared to. Especially my relationship with Jesus. Painful and humbling thoughts about myself and my own expectations and I keep coming to the same foundational thought: relationships are hard, and my relationship with Jesus has a lot more similarities to my other relationship struggles than I would like to admit.
Here is the honest truth that is difficult for me to admit: I want Him to give me what I want when I want it. When I am knocking on the door, I really, REALLY want it to open. And I want it to open in the way that I want it to. And when that doesn’t happen, I don’t understand why. For example, I don’t understand why God gave me Vince and then took him away even though I prayed and prayed that would never happen.
I want Jesus to love me unconditionally, but sometimes in my life, my love for Him has been conditional. (For example: I like this verse, but this other verse makes me a little uncomfortable, so I am just going to keep flipping the pages and read what fits my narrative and not what doesn’t.)
I want Him to reward me for the sacrifices that I make to show my love for Him, but I don’t always want to be reminded of the sacrifice He made to show his love for me. It makes me uncomfortable.
I don’t want Him to have any rules for me, but I have rules for Him. Such as: I love Him, and agree to follow Him, but I don’t want to talk about it too much because I don’t want to make others feel uncomfortable. (There is that word again. It keeps coming up, doesn’t it?)
Here is where I give the disclaimer that not only am I not a psychologist, but I am also not a theologian. I am sure some theologians would have deep issues with me comparing a relationship with Jesus to a relationship with a parent, a spouse, or a friend. But I do think if we look at the way we are with our earthly relationships and our expectations around those relationships—and sometimes unfortunately our own double standards, we will possibly see an important parallel. I think very often we expect Jesus not to have any rules for us—but we have rules for Him. I guess that is why He gave us a choice on whether we would follow Him or not. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. And He wants to be wanted. He wants to be appreciated for the sacrifice he made for us, and He doesn’t want to be taken for granted. He wants us to notice the things He does for us to show us that He cares. He doesn’t want a one-sided relationship where we take His love for us for granted and only choose Him when it is convenient and comfortable.
That part sounds very relatable, doesn’t it?
But unlike us, He will leave the 99 to seek out just one of us because He desires a relationship with us that much. That is where our understanding and concept of relationships (I believe) falls very short. God’s intensity to seek those of us out who are broken is immeasurable and difficult to explain for those who haven’t felt it or opened themselves up to feel it. Because that is really what it takes— opening yourself up. Receiving it. We all want to be loved. And the only one whose love and relationship skills are perfect, we sometimes turn away from.
How ironic is that?