Speaking Love

Photo by Kane Reinholdtsen on Unsplash

This post is about love and the courage it takes to let ourselves be seen. If you ever struggle to say what you think or feel, you’re not alone. And you are particularly welcome here.

Since the autumn, three of us have been meeting fortnightly for an evening of stillness, silence, and reflective thought. Last month we were invited to ponder What is love? And to bring whatever surfaced when we next gathered.

When speaking feels tender.

I’ve appreciated this rhythm of contemplation and sharing, even as I’ve found it challenging. Often, I feel a little like Cordelia in Shakespeare's King Lear, struggling to articulate my feelings. Not because I have nothing to say but because looking closely at what’s within can feel tender, complicated, or overwhelming. Many of us know that mix: the desire to speak honestly, and the instinct to protect ourselves from what honesty might reveal.   

As I sat with the question What is love?, the same words kept rising:

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

Many of us have heard these words at a wedding. They come from Paul’s first letter to a community in Corinth. A community that he knew well, who wanted to live the Way of Jesus, who were wrestling with division, distraction, and the pull of old habits. Paul wrote to remind them that the Way is not shaped by status or the spectacular, but by steadfast, sacrificial, death-defying love.

When I revisit this passage, I’m struck by how familiar their struggle feels. Many of us live in a culture that prizes self-promotion, distraction, and independence. We question authority, numb discomfort, and judge relationships by how good they feel. It’s not hard to see echoes of Corinth in our own lives.

And like the Corinthians, many of us have glimpsed another way of living, a way rooted in love, yet still find ourselves pulled back into old patterns.

Returning to Paul with honesty.

Sitting with that question brought me to a passage many of us know well, words from Paul that have been both helpful and harmful to me over the years.

Helpful, because they reveal something true about the heart of the Divine, a love that is patient, kind and endlessly faithful. A love that has carried me through many seasons.

Harmful, because I’ve often used these words as a report card. I’ve twisted them into evidence of my inadequacy, tallying every moment I fall short. Shame grows quickly in that soil. Many of the women I accompany know this dynamic too: the pressure to love others while quietly withholding love from ourselves.

Yet Jesus keeps calling us to a different type of mutuality, to love God, others, and ourselves in ways that sustain rather than deplete. We are meant to live in communities where everyone contributes. When that isn’t happening, we are not called to fill every gap.

Reclaiming the passage.

I can share these words of Paul’s today because I’ve given voice to the ways in which they have been positive and negative, without trying to soften one or the other. Both exist and when I’m able to own and voice that, something deep within me relaxes.

These words do indeed describe love, not the love we manufacture through effort, but the Love that holds us, shapes us, and invites us into transformation.

Following the Way is choosing to walk toward this Love. When we enter any relationship, marriage, friendship, community, we choose the direction it will go. If we want it to be a loving one, we find ourselves on a path many will recognise as the Way of Jesus; steadfast, sacrificial, death-defying.

I often feel like someone learning to walk again — steady one moment, wobbly the next. Over time I’ve realised that many of us are trying to walk on two legs: love of God and others, or love of others and ourselves. No wonder we lose our balance. I’ve come to believe we were made to walk on three — love of God, love of others, and love of ourselves. When all three are bearing weight, something in us steadies. We move with more honesty, more grace, and a gait that is distinctly our own.

It takes time, companions and reminders to get proficient.

A shared practice for May

I’m choosing to sit with these words from 1 Corinthians more personally, to allow them to encourage and nourish me, to remind me of the amazing love within which I have my being. If this resonates with you, you’re welcome to join me. We’ll insert our names at the start of each line.

…… be patient with yourself, reflecting God’s endless patience and grace.

…… be kind to yourself. Be alongside yourself with lightness and gentleness.

…… do not be envious of who you once were or what you might have explored.

…… celebrate who you are not. Love is breathing within you today.

…… let love invite you to speak honestly and openly, without fear.

…… be curious about any discomfort that arises, what might it be trying to show you?

…… hold your anger toward yourself with tenderness, release the things you’re still holding against yourself.

…… delight in the truth that you are a beloved, growing child walking a transformative path.

…… allow Love- yours, God’s and others’- to protect you from the lies that dimmish you.

…… trust that this Love is enough.

And if you’d value a space to explore how this practice unfolds, I’d be glad to accompany you.   

A gentle pause before you go.

Thank you for taking the time to be here. I appreciate you giving time to read this blog.

Before you move on with your day, I invite you to pause.

If you’re able - notice how your body, mind, or heart has been responding as you read.

If something stirred, tugged, resisted, or softened, take a little to time now to walk or journal with it. Welcome it with curiosity and courage. Allow whatever surfaced to settle and reveal the gift it’s been waiting to give.

This too is part of the practice, the loving path. Go well, dear reader.