By Gina Gaudet
As a young teen, I had a typical need to question and doubt everything, especially religion. My parents required church attendance (under threat of being grounded), so I was a faithful, if doubtful, pew-sitter. One Sunday, the cover of the worship bulletin was a page from Paul’s first letter to the Church at Corinth. Thirteenth chapter, verses 1–13.
As the sermon droned in the background, I read the words over and over. At home, I pinned the paper on a wall of my room. It stayed with me through my high school career and my churchless days of college like my own personal “bible.”
Looking toward the month of Valentine, these verses came back to me, but in a more “poetic” transliteration of Paul’s words.
My great, prophetic words, without love, are just loud. empty. noise.
My great acts of faith, even my miracles – without love – are nothing. Nothing.
My charity – even my poverty – have no substance if there is no love.
Love is patient. And kind. Always.
Jealous? Resentful? Boastful or arrogant? Never.
Rude? Irritable? Impossible!
Love cannot rejoice at misfortune or wrongdoing,
but only in the highest good for all.
It bears even the unbearable.
It believes the unbelievable.
Love is hope beyond hope
and endurance … endurance!
Love. Never. Ends.