This is a test. This is only a test. For the duration of one sentence I will attempt to write something legible while placing my fingers on random keys. Pty8w 8s 9ho6 q 53w5l, j fdldzg gbjx jx kn,h z fdxg. I repeat, this is only a test.
Now, if you can, please interpret the fourth sentence of the previous paragraph. Can’t do it? Of course not. My fingers weren’t on the home keys. I placed them wherever I wanted, and just typed.
When it comes to typing on a keyboard, you have to follow some guidelines if you want the outcome to make sense. It’s the same in love. Love was never meant to be confusing. In reality, it’s as simple as, “Do to others as you would have them do to you.”
As a teacher, I spend a lot of time developing my young students’ reading skills. The goal is for the children to learn certain words, but with the limited options given for a particular skill set, some stories in their little readers don’t make sense. One time, after reading one of those nonsensical stories, a five-year old student asked, “What was that supposed to mean?”
We can try to make our own guidelines for love, just as I placed my hands on the keyboard wherever I wanted. But the outcome will make about as much sense as the random words strewn together in a children’s reader or the completely illegible sentence in the first paragraph here. Only when my hands are placed on the home keys do the words come out in a logical way.
Jesus is our “home base” when it comes to love. He is the one who created the golden rule of do unto others, and he is the one who lived out the golden rule by living a life of perfect love and dying a death of sacrificial love. When I feel confused about life and love, I just have to look at the ultimate definition of love. And that makes sense.
Source: Love Makes Sense



A forecast of sixty degrees and sunny does not make for a happy Midwesterner come Christmastime. We grow up expecting snow as some sort of holiday birthright, our desire for it so great we’ve made it the theme of several songs—though we must admit it’s somewhat contradictory to string Let it Snow, White Christmas, and I’ll be Home for Christmas in the same playlist. Do we really want another Snowmageddon if we’re trying to hit the roads or catch a flight home? That white Christmas we’re dreaming of might mean we won’t be home for Christmas after all. Although this year, it looks like we’re getting more than what we asked for.
A bad experience accidentally sampling wine as a six-year old permanently scarred my taste buds against any desire for it. The only association I now have with the drink is…yuck. But there’s something I like less: the kind of wine spelled with an “h”.
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