Love Anyway

At the top of my list last Christmas was a simple sweatshirt from Preemptive Love Coalition with the words “Love Anyway” written across the front of it. After a brief time volunteering with a group of Turkish refugees who wanted to learn English, the message of loving despite differences or cost had never been closer to my heart. It was there, huddled in that room in my stocking feet (I took my shoes off before entering), holy ground for both them and me for different reasons, that I learned of the overwhelming scope of their loss and found the deep kinship my soul longed for. It was a season wherein finding connection seemed next to impossible, yet I continued to find it in the least expected places.

One of them was my Muslim neighbor, Annie. If Annie seems like an odd name for someone from Pakistan, that’s because one of the many things Annie taught me about being “brown” in a land of white is that it’s often hard to get a call back from potential employers with a foreign name. Annie and I stood outside in the mornings long after the bus swept away our kiddos and chattered on about all the things I had trouble finding anyone else to talk with me about: marriage, stretch marks, parenting, faith, infertility, loss, hope, where to get the best makeup deals, Groupon vacations. In short, we shared the best and worst of life. Eventually, we moved inside our homes. She had real struggles, and so did I. We prayed for one another and left small tokens of encouragement outside one another’s doorsteps. She taught me about Ramadan and fasting. I was blown away by her dedication to her faith and inspired to live out a more disciplined version of my own. We shared dinners where I learned about what a lightweight I am when it comes to spices. When I moved, she gifted me with a cultural piece, which I wore with pride.

Many will ask if I sought to convert Annie. Did I lead her in the sinner’s prayer or make sure to insert the name of Jesus at every turn in the conversation? I did not. Annie was a gift to me in every way. I grew closer to Jesus as a result of watching her faith. She ministered to me, and I pray she can say the same of me. The point was to love anyway. For us, the joy was in looking out across all of our differences, our brownness, our whiteness, and to be open about them without trying to change one another. I can only tell you that in this instance, God was using our differences to grow and bless one another. God used Annie to teach me about loving anyway—loving when it means learning uncomfortable things about myself, loving when it means getting out of my comfort zone, loving when it means having to be intentional.

This year my family and I moved to a location I never in my wildest imagination dreamed I would reside: the top of a mountain. My husband has long desired to be a mountain man, and the show itself has further engrained this longing. Here we are, enjoying the mist on the mountain in the morning and learning about well water and septic tanks. As we prepared to move, over and over I asked the Lord, “Are my people here? Will I make connections here?” It seemed it might be challenging. I am by no means a farmer or a mountain woman. I know nothing about well water or hunting, and these seemed to be popular topics in my new location.

Naturally, these were unfair generalizations. True, many people in my new location do enjoy hunting, and there are a lot of farmers. However, can I tell you they are some of the kindest, most welcoming people I have ever encountered? It turns out I don’t have to know a thing about bow hunting or four-wheelers for them to invite me in. I just have to love anyway. I simply have to reach out across our differences, focus on our common humanity, and invite them in.

I wonder, who might you love anyway? Who might God want to use in your life to bless and grow and stretch you? Maybe you have the best intentions by seeking to change this person, but what if that’s not what God is doing with this individual in your life? What if they are meant to change you? What if they have been placed in your life to give you changed perspective, new eyes, and a deeper walk with Christ? What if you missed out on that because you were so focused on trying to change them? What if, instead, you decided to love anyway?

Stacey Philpot is wife to Ryan and mother to Hayden, Julie, and Avery. She is a writer, goofball, and avid reader. Stacey has ministered for over 15 years to youth and women in her community in order to equip them to go deeper in Christ. She blogs at aliferepaired.com and chronicallywhole.com.