Defining Love.

I am probably one of the most headstrong, stubborn people out there. I will openly admit this. Usually, it’s my way or the highway. Sometimes it’s a good thing, but more times than not it gets me in trouble. 

Growing up, my brother and I were always bestfriends. At just two years apart, we did everything together. Played Barbies, shot hoops, rode bikes, played dressup—everything. Because we were so close, almost every activity ended in a competition. Who could finish their dinner fastest. Who got better grades. Who was better at sports. We were always eachother’s biggest competitor. 

Needless to say, this did not lessen as we got older. Even though he is 6'2" and 10 times stronger than me, I still feel like I can beat him at anything---which usually ends bad for me. 

For those of you that know me, you have probably made fun of me once or twice for how much time I spend in the gym. Six days a week I’m just your local gym rat. But what most of you don’t know is that my brother is the one who got me started.

In high school I never lifted. At soccer practices, our team would literally sit in the weight room and talk until our coach let us leave. It never interested me. Once I got to college and decided to study Exercise Science, my classes required me to be in shape in order to pass. Over breaks, I would go home and my brother, Jared, and I would go to the gym together. He would do his thing, and I would do mine. I knew in the back of my head that I had no idea what I was doing in the weight room, but I refused to stoop as low as to ask my younger brother for help. Not in this lifetime! Each time he saw me struggle he would offer to help—to show me how to do it the right way. And every time I would snap back with the usual, “I know what I’m doing, thanks.” 

So each time we went to the gym I could barely stack a 25 pound plate and he would just watch and occasionally offer assistance. There are so many things he could have said like, “Rach just give up” or “Rach you’re just not cut out for this.” But he didn’t. He kept offering to help and I kept being my stubborn self and refusing. Eventually, I got tired of seeing my training do nothing for my body (while watching him become Clark Kent) and finally gave in. Ever since then I have learned so much from him and we still train together every time I go home. 

Why did my brother continue to try and help me even after I shot him down each time? Why did he still go to the gym with his embarrassing sister that could probably be killed by the squat rack? Why did he do this? 

Because he loved me. And he didn’t just say he loved me. He showed it. He showed it every time he stuck by my side. This is the kind of love that God created…the kind that he wants us to share with others. One of my favorite quotes from the book Love Does states:

“But the kind of love that God created and demonstrated is a costly one because it involves sacrifice and presence. It’s a love that operates more like a sign language than being spoken outright.”

My brother could have gone to the gym with his friends---guys that could have actually kept up with him. But he went with me. Instead of taking the time to teach me the ropes, he could have been out training himself. But he didn’t. He didn’t just say he was there for me---he WAS there.

“This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters…let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.” -1 John 3:16-19

It isn’t enough to just look like you love Jesus. God wants us to show love, but not just any love. The kind of love that he created---a sacrificial love. As soon as my brother sees this post he will never let me live it down. But I guess this is my way of demonstrating my love for him. 

Now it’s your turn. Whose life can you impact today? Who can you show love to?

“In the end, love doesn’t just keep thinking about it or keep planning for it. Simply put: love does.” -Bob Goff