“But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love” (1 Corinthians 13:13 MSG). 

My Mama used to say, “God is good.” Every question, a ton of stress, strife, and her words were the same: God. Is. Extra. Good.

And my mama struggled. She spent many years battling depression and fear and alcoholism, but also, all of her years loving hard. There wasn’t a stranger who couldn’t come into our home as family. There wasn’t a sacrifice she wouldn’t make. She would swim upstream for you. Also, she told me about a God who is a “large-bit-lovely.” 

My mom’s head pincushioned in soft pink curlers, Isn’t Jesus extravagant, she’d say. I’d scratch wild waves onto my overfrosted bedroom window with my fingernail. I didn’t see it, then. 

When I think of excessive, today, for instance, I might just consider the magnetic eyelashes I wore all fancy to a benefit banquet the other night. So extra. And elaborate. So fancy-like as one eyelash floated like a spider across the surface of my lemonade, I noticed. It’s easy to desire extravagance from the false premises we build around our lives. (Trust me. I’m winking at you with one eyelash right now. I should know.)

We are taught extravagance to mean excess. It is unfrosted glass, we imagine. Eyelashes that stick, maybe. Overflow, extra, just too much. But it isn’t. 

Real Sacrifice

Extravagance is simply sacrifice. It is surrender. 

“But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love” (1 Corinthians 13:13 MSG). 

Paul tells us about the triangular truth of faith, hope, and love as the act of “consummation,” or to make something perfect. In this process, especially when we read the action-verbs given to us, we realize there is a different focus when we give ourselves over to it: Completeness. We receive love and know that—to bear all things—godly, self-sacrificing love must do the full work. But when we really understand that love is not manufactured from our own good, strong effort? Well, this can feel like a take-away. 

Our culture gives a tsk-tsk to subtraction, I think. Over and over Scripture tells us that the excessive love of Jesus was (in all of its rejection) given at holy expense. From the moment Jesus stepped down to meet us, the seas roared and the winds howled, born in straw and dirt—we tried to force-fit Him into our understanding of what we thought love to be. We tried to make Him prove His surplus of devotion, and He did. And then He tells us in Matthew 10, “Freely you have received. Freely give.” 

Gain from loss

There is a profound truth woven throughout Scripture: Jesus’s loss on the cross is our greatest gain. How elaborate that with Jesus, the boundaries of the physical world are shattered by the hope of the spiritual forever. I’ve been reminded lately, too, while in some pain and a lot of weakness, that I have so much love to give, and much more hope to have. It is simple, but not at all simple, really.

Maybe extravagant love doesn’t really come from more at all, maybe it prolifically grows from less. Maybe the free gift is not the commodity I try and make it out to be somedays. 

I’ve learned that it’s easy to forget how deeply souls are preciously cared for. Possibly why our human understanding of love doesn’t always stick, I just don’t know. Although, I’m 100% still wearing my one fake eyelash, so things are looking up. I do know some things. I know soul things do stick. 

Splendor and struggle

God’s hands willingly let go of glory and majesty, but also, comfort and divine splendor to experience the struggle with us. To hold us fast. When He walked, He walked on water. In His power to raise Lazurus from the dead, you can hear His tears pound the dust and do all the work of love. He held steadfast to the cross, exactly why I love this promise: “God is all mercy and grace—not quick to anger, is rich in love” (Psalm 145:8-9). 

 Maybe our sacrificial to-do for today is simpler than getting magnetic eyelashes to stick. We can trust steadily, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. Trust me, it’s messy to live and love over-the-top like this. And I’m winking at you with one fancy eyelash. YOU are loved EXTRAVAGENTLY. You are loved by a God who is a large-bit-lovely. 

Isn’t God’s love extravagant? We hear. Crazy glorious, we say. And then we all wink at each other with our one fancy, and very stuck, eyelash. Wink. Wink. Owe. Wink.