I just finished a truly amazing, yearlong class on prayer. In the last session, we took the Myers-Briggs personality test, to help us discover which prayer methods might be the most fruitful for us. I learned I am an ENFP. In my results, I read the following:
“Need to find meaning in everything, The NF needs to know that they are uniquely loved by God … and that they are accepted by God as they are now, sins and all. NFs need to be assured of this daily.”
Yup. That’s me. Daily.
I don’t know about you, but for me it is so easy to slip into this mentality that God is unhappy with me, that he is holding my imperfections against me, that I am somehow “in trouble” with him. And yes, I need to be constantly reminded that I am his beloved daughter, and that his tender, fatherly love for me isn’t withheld because I am not perfect. Of course, my sins grieve him. But it’s because of his love for me because those sins hurt me and hurt others. He’s not up there saying, “I’m going to get you!”
Last month I promised you a continuation of my discussion on friendship, focusing on the wisdom of St. John Paul II. But then I realized that there is a lot to say about St. John Paul II and love and friendship, and it really wouldn’t make a lot of sense to jump into the middle. More sensible, and probably overdue, is to spend a few months looking at the entirety of his thought — a series on his beautiful “Theology of the Body.”
For those unfamiliar with the term, this was a series of talks that St. John Paul II gave in the early years of his pontificate. In them, the Holy Father goes deep into Scripture to give us what he called an “adequate anthropology,” a study of ourselves as created in the image and likeness of God. It is the most beautiful exegesis I have ever seen on God, love, sex, family, community, friendship, sin and redemption.
And it all starts with God’s love for us. All of us.
St. John Paul II starts with the creation account in the book of Genesis. Remember how God created the sun and the moon, and it was good? The day and the night, and it was good. And then, after all of that, he created Adam and he said, “and it was very good.”
The Vatican II document “Gaudium et Spes” says that “Man, being the only creature created for his own sake, finds himself only in a sincere gift of himself.”
“Created for his own sake.” God didn’t create Adam because he needed Adam. God needs nothing. He created Adam because he loved Adam and wanted him to exist. And he created all the rest of creation — the beauty of the earth — for Adam’s sake, as a gift of love.
And so, because Adam is us, God created you for your own sake, completely out of love. And he created the beauty of this world, and the good things in your life, as a gift to you. And he loves you. Uniquely. Personally. He knows you better than you know yourself. He has counted every hair on your head. He knows your every thought, what happens in your heart. And he loves you with an infinite, tender, personal love. He loves you as if you were the only person he created.
You. Yes, you. Exactly where you are right now. Even if you feel far away from him. Even if you are “locked” in sin. Even if your prayer life isn’t what you think it should be. Even if you’ve never had a prayer life. He loves you, and he longs for a relationship with you.
There is a book I have loved for years: “He and I,” by Gabrielle Bossis, a French woman who lived in the mid-20th century. Bossis believed she heard the voice of God speaking to her of his love for her. And, by extension, for all of us. You can believe the voice was legit or not. But the messages were beautiful:
“The unfolding of My love in you is My personal happiness; I’m waiting for it. Everything that affects you touches Me personally … Then why should I alone desire this close union? Don’t you also desire it?”
Yes, he’s that close. When you are hurting, he feels it. When you have a bad day, he shares in it. When tragedy strikes, he and his love are right there in the midst of it.
As a Father who loves us, he naturally desires to be in relationship with us, to have that “close union.” Again, what father wouldn’t?
The depth of his love is, for me, very difficult to comprehend. And thus, it is material for lots and lots of meditation. I would encourage you to join me. Spend time with him. Tell him you want to know him better, that you desire that relationship. Ask him to show you the depths of his love for you.
And then listen very, very closely.
Bonacci is a syndicated columnist based in Denver.
