To Believe and Not Love, THAT is the Question

Sickness has always surrounded my family. When I was thirteen years old, my five-year old cousin died of brain cancer. At fifteen, my great-grandmother and grandmother died of bone cancer within a span of a few months. At twenty-one, my uncle died of colon cancer. At twenty-two, my sister died of a heart attack. Three months ago, my uncle died of throat cancer. And that is not counting those cousins, uncles and aunts that are currently suffering from diabetes, high blood pressure and mental problems.

In my immediate family, sickness surrounds us as well. For the past nine years, my brother has been treated for a disease that doctors are yet to diagnose. Subsequently, in trying to determine the root of his disease, doctors have subjected him to numerous treatments and hospitalizations that have spanned from clinics to mental institutions. While many doctors are well-intentioned in trying to find the cause, they also disagree on the full diagnosis of his physical manifestations. Consequently, their disagreement has led to constant changes in doses, types of medications and treatments. With each change, another side effect compounds to his long list of symptoms. At the age of 24, my brother now suffers from liver failure, heart problems, muscle degeneration and constant epileptic attacks, half of which he did not have at one point in his life.

The not-fully resolved mystery of my brother's sickness have caused doctors to be cautious of allowing my brother to be an active member of his own life. By doctors' orders, my brother cannot travel by plane, drive a car and even go to school for fear that he will have one or many of his physical "episodes" in the middle of a classroom. Because of this, my brother has been isolated from the world. He has no friends, never has had a girlfriend and his hopes to get married and have children get slimmer and slimmer as time goes by.

Recently, I received a call from my brother. He was depressed and like always he wouldn’t let us know what was happening with him. I tried my best to talk to him and cheer him up but he hung up soon after. The next day, my mother called. She begged me to call him more often. She indicated that he was very sad the day before because according to him, “I have had to suffer more than anyone else I know. I wish I could have a normal life.” I pondered about this. Surely, I have had a rough life but in comparison to him, I am very blessed. I have a husband, have traveled, drive a car, have friends and am learning to know God.

I decided to call my brother the next day. He seemed in better spirits so I took the opportunity to inform him that I have started to go to church. As I completed my announcement, my brother screamed. “What are you doing? Don’t you know they are a bunch of fanatics? They are all hypocrites that want your money,” he indicated. Of course, these comments were not a surprise to me as these are the exact words of his caretaker, my father. I recollected myself, smiled, and told him that God loves Him. He responded, “I know He exists, I just don’t love Him.” I was hurt by his words. How could he not love God? “The Lord has always been with us despite all our problems,” I thought. After a few minutes, we changed the subject and hung up.

That thought though: “I believe but I don’t love” kept revolving in my head. To me, it didn’t make sense. I thought about it a bit more but then quickly forgot. The week went by and I continued to read one of the chapters for my homegroup. As I read about the Israelites in the base of the mountain and Aaron making them a calf god, I realized that believing without love is an actual possibility. Here are the Israelites at the base of the mountain believing in God but not loving Him enough to dwell with Him at the mountain top.

What a sad reality. God had done so much for them yet when it was the Israelites’ turn to love Him back, they retracted. Or at least, they did not love Him enough to go the top of the mountain and dwell with Him. Three million people at the base of the mountain blatantly told God, “I believe in You but I don’t love You that much to have a relationship with You.” How sad! I can’t begin to fathom how God must have felt when He heard that or how He feels when to this day, our nation asks Him to leave our schools and our lives.

Then and there, I realized that my brother’s words were not so far away from the truth. Can you imagine how many people are telling God that they believe in His existence yet because society doesn’t see it fit, that they can’t love Him enough to follow and interact with Him? How many of us need serious healing in our lives (emotional, spiritual, physical) but don’t understand how to begin believing and/or how to love Him enough to allow Him to perform those miracles in our lives? I don’t have those answers nor do I know at what point will God bless my family and heal/free them from all of their suffering. All I know is that I love Him and that no matter how life pans out, He is my Savior and the one true thing that I will ever need.