Love Hurts (AND…)

Whether you like Nazareth’s Scottish hard-rock/chest hair/great mustaches version, or the kinder, gentler Emmylou/Graham Parson’s version, “Love Hurts” is a truly amazing song. 

But it only tells half the story. 

Love hurts, love scars
Love wounds and marks any heart
Not tough, or strong enough
To take a lot of pain, take a lot of pain
Love is like a cloud, it holds a lot of rain
Love hurts

I’m young, I know
But even so
I know a thing or two
I’ve learned from you
I really learned a lot, really learned a lot
Love is like a flame, it burns you when it’s hot
Love hurts

Some fools think
Of happiness, blissfulness, togetherness
Some fools fool themselves I guess
They’re not fooling me
I know it isn’t true, I know it isn’t true
Love is just a lie, made to make you blue
Love hurts

“Love Hurts,” Boudleaux Bryant

Just like Neil Young says, “only love can break your heart,” yes: love hurts. It does, in fact, wound and scar. 

And it does take a lot of pain. 

But here’s the thing that the lyric leaves off (and even I hate to admit it): 

In this life, pain is the main mechanism for our growth. 

So, as painful as love can be, and as bad as it can hurt, it’s also the way in which our lives can get a little bit larger, and more whole, and even more resilient. 

And over time, if you “do pain right”, or “suffer productively”, we can see our lives get a little more capacity for joy, and wonder, and—get this—even more love. 

I think most all of us love something, or somebody, which means we’ve probably all been hurt. When I hurt because of love, my reaction is often to silently declare, “Well, I’ll never do that again,” meaning risk myself, extend myself, reveal my soul. 

(By the way: I’m talking here about “love” in the grander, more expansive sense, not merely romantic love. I’m also talking about the deep, rich love and affection that can grow up between people in community, sharing lives together. THIS love can be just as powerful as any romantic love.)

But that—the pulling BACK from love (and pain) is to move towards isolation, and (ironically) the potential for MORE fear. 

Which can start a pretty unpleasant cycle. 

So yeah, love hurts. But that’s not the whole story. I’m learning that to risk, and to love, and to hurt, and to grow is better than to not have loved at all. 

Love also heals us, and grows us, and helps to make us slightly better human beings. 

It’s Been a Week…

 

I don’t know what kind of week you have been having, or what kind of words you’ve been encountering, but this is been a relatively rough one for my community.

The words I have encountered this week or words like:

“cancer” 

“overdose”

“suicide”

It goes without saying, but these are not the type of words that we’d prefer to see and hear in a week.

On the other hand, it seems all too common.

So how do I respond? What do I do when those words enter my reality?

I can certainly rail and rage against them. That’s an option that is easy to embrace. But for me, I eventually come up against something that I cannot control, be it other people, disease, (or even broken politics and a pathological culture)

But then again, I am driven back to the simple reality of accepting the things I have no control over, and embracing what I can control (which is mostly my reaction to all of this stuff).

Two thoughts that help me:

First, I am reminded that life goes on. I remember walking the streets of Chicago with my wife on September 11, 2001. everywhere was under silence, exacerbated by the fact that all air planes were grounded, but that reality was shattered when we heard people laughing at a joke. We felt so violated, like that time and space and silence was sacred. Even in the midst of devastating sadness, somewhere a baby will be born; there will be genuine laughter and care in a family somewhere; new, creative work will be done to make the world a better place. When I was younger, as I encountered pain in the world I would expect the whole world around me to stop and be devastated right alongside with me. I always treated it as a grave injustice for there to be laughter in the midst of pain. But now I think I realize that it is both our gift and our struggle that life goes on. What’s more, I know that the cross means that as long as there is suffering in the world, Christ suffers right along with us. Thomas Merton said “Christ remains in agony until the end of time, and in His agony Christ triumphs over all power.”

Second, I find soul-affirming comfort wherever I can. Jesus actually prayed that we would not be taken out of this world (John 17; really, Jesus?). But he also told us that he would not leave us alone (John 14). That means that his presence, and his peace and his love and his compassion is really always available to us. For me, I find it in friends, and in prayer, and also in art.

I stumbled across Bill Fay while I was driving in my car around 2013. Florida State radio station play the song that instantly grabbed me, and also instantly made me think, “boy Jeff Tweedy is ripping this guy off big time.”

(Tweedy appears on “This World, off of Fay’s 2012 record Life is People, and Fay covers Wilco’s “Jesus Don’t Cry” on the same record. Tweedy has also covered a couple other Fay tracks, like “Be Not So Fearful” and “Please Tell My Brothers” in his acoustic shows.)

Ever since then, whenever I need to hear something comforting and gentle, but also full of faith, I turn to Bill thing. I actually even had a friend who, when he did his fifth step in recovery, made sure that he had Fay queued up to play on his drive home from his sponsor’s house.

There are plenty of good tracks, but this is one of my “go-to’s”.

May you be comforted, and remember that “the healing day” is coming sometime for all of us.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DdZzBO_YPJM