As C. S. Lewis put it: “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping [your heart] intact, you must give [it] to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket - of your selfishness. But in that casket - it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”1 And ultimately, incapable of experiencing true love!
This simple truth applies to all of life's beautiful, blessed experiences—each one comes only to those who open themselves to the possibility of their opposites: joy and sorrow, heartache and happiness, abundance and loss. It is in the very prospect of pain that we learn to truly appreciate love.
Many years ago, a woman purchased a greeting card about love. She intended to give the card away, but she ending up keeping it because she liked the sentiment so much. Eventually, she framed it and shared it with someone she loved. The card read, “Another's heart is a rare and precious gift. Hold it gently and with both hands.”
When others give us their love, they give us great power—the power to hurt them as no one else can, but also the power to bless and lift and delight them as no one else can. And they have determined that this possibility is worth the risk. So when we love, we must be gentle with our criticism, generous with our praise, gracious with our forgiveness, and ever grateful for those who have entrusted us with their heart.
Truly, to love is to walk on holy ground. One who loves holds—in both hands—a portion of the potential, the joy, and the happiness of another. It is a sacred trust, born of the confidence that love is a song that never needs to end.2
- The Four Loves (1960), 121.
- See Larry Morey, “Love Is a Song” (1942).
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