Dear Jesus, you ask me to love as you love –
to love everyone around me as if they are all people that I even know,
or knowing them – that I even care.
You ask me to love the ones who’ve hurt me –
the ones who look me right in the eye and lie,
the ones who’ve cheated me,
and said things about me,
and promised to be there for me,
and weren’t, or didn’t, or couldn’t.
You ask me to love the ones who hate –
me, or anyone like me, or with me,
or simply anyone who is not like they see themselves.
You ask me to love those who don’t understand me –
and those who don’t even try to.
You ask me to love those who aren’t what I need them to be,
those who fail me,
those who let me down,
or won’t forgive,
Those who screw up,
and all the ones who can’t be relied on.
Lord, you ask me to love all the ones who act as if they never learned to love –
or only learned to love themselves.
And hardest of all, you ask me to love the ones I love,
and to continue to love them when I’d rather not –
when they look exactly like the ones who would be easier not to love –
or to not even let myself see.
You ask this, Oh God,
and I want to say I can’t.
I want to tell you what you ask is impossible.
And then I ask you how you love me,
and I know it’s only and exactly what you’re asking me –