Love Love Love

Once a month, I submit a reflection for a weekly newsletter sent out by my church in California (Lake Ave. Church). In lieu of an original blog post, I thought I'd share what I submitted this week.

I was eating lunch in the villages with our Khmer staff a couple of months ago when they gently reprimanded me. We were eating something called dtroukouen, or morning glory. It's a green vegetable, pretty much a water weed, and it's usually stir fried with garlic in oyster sauce. This simple dish is one of my favorites, even though it sounds disgusting. As we came up to the table, I said (in Khmer), "Oh! I love dtroukouen!"

"No, Kate," they said to me (in English). "You don't love it. You can't love it."

And they were correct. I can't (in Khmer) love dtroukouen.

You see, I used the word srolein, which means "to love." As in, I love you, Je t'adore, Te amo, etc. But when you talk about food in Khmer, srolein is incorrect. You simply don't love food. You can only cholechet it.

In its own right, cholechet is a pretty interesting word. It means, literally, to bring something into your heart, or to like or prefer it. You can cholechet food (and people, by the way). You're supposed to like food. But you aren't supposed to love it.

It was a startling reminder to me of how much language affects the way we think about things. And by things, I'm talking about how we describe our relationship with God. I mean, I can tell you that I love God, but you already know that I love a water weed stir fried in oyster sauce. So why would you think that I feel strongly about the relationship I have with the Creator of the universe? Love, used colloquially, is the same word in English; we don't differentiate our love for food, cars, or big TVs from our love for the Lord. I know it's a matter of degree, and that no one would really think that I love dtroukouen as much as I love Jesus, but take a minute and consider how often you tell people that you love something (other than your family, friends, or significant other).

Still thinking? Run out of fingers to count?

I'll be honest. I do it a lot. I particularly love music. And I love tacos. But if you take those things away, I can live without them (a blander, quieter life, it's true). Yet it's not only how I describe my relationship with God, but how I think He feels about me that's impacted. We tell each other, "God loves you." It's true. God loves you. But not the way you love nachos, or 24, or the Lakers. His love is not simply a preference for us, or a desire to spend an hour with us on Tuesday nights. His love is ah'ja, as the Khmer say, the best, highest, most awesome love there can be.

In our attempt to describe the love of our Father, we've had to use a word we've cheapened with overuse. What would happen if we used the word "love" a little less often? What if we really believed that God loves us—a love like we've never experienced before? I think it would change us, change the way we love others, change the way we feel about receiving love. I think it would be pretty ah'ja.