Just when I thought I was safe from our former minister’s pesky challenges, up he popped on Sunday, reminding us to love one another. Why couldn’t he just go off to Marbella like other retired Brits, and stop unsettling people leis an dol a-mach seo? I tried writing some of it down in the hopes that it would exorcise the persistent voice that whispered, ‘do YOU love the brethren, Catriona Murray’?

I will freely admit to all of you, because the only one whose opinion matters already knows, that this is a particular issue of mine.  Funnily enough, though, it would be an even greater difficulty if the command was to like my brothers and sisters. That’s a subjective thing, you see, based on whether you find people interesting, appealing, pleasant to be around. And not one of us can say that we like everyone we meet; nor would everyone say that they liked us. 

But something I have eventually learned is that when the Bible talks of love, it is referring to something much bigger, and much less whim-based. In a way, it’s a bit like the joy you find in Christ – that doesn’t diminish depending on your circumstances; in fact, I have found that it grows, often in proportion to how hard those are. You find joy regardless of what else is going on in your life.

Well, the love that God speaks of is surely similar to that. I think we have to love one another even if we are not always likeable. We love because he first loved us. He didn’t wait until we were perfect, or even good; he simply loved us, because his love is not subjective and does not – mercifully – depend on our degree of lovability.

On Monday, the devotional app that I use had a really timely study that spoke to an issue I have discussed here previously. While my particular problem related to a professing Christian, this study talked in wider terms about how we should respond to those who wrong us. Of course, the human instinct is retaliation – but that would be to ape the world, and we have a different, a perfect, example to follow. Christ is not only love, but he is truth, and he allowed himself to be crucified without uttering one word of reproach to his betrayers.

What did he say? ‘Father, forgive them’, and sometimes I think that’s the only prayer we need in the circumstances of which I speak. If the person, or people, who try your patience are unbelievers and persecuting you for your faith, pray for them. I don’t pretend that this comes easily, but it is possible.

‘What’, you ask, ‘even in your resentful and sarcastic heart’? Yes, well, I’ve adopted a strategy. Like I said, subterfuge is pointless with God, and he can spot an insincere prayer a mile off. ‘Oh’, I can hear you say, ‘so now you’re a paragon of sincerity’! No. I offer my inadequate prayers to God, and ask him to bless my enemies according to his mercy, and not mine. That way, it doesn’t matter so much what I may feel about them, because I am not the author of their fate.

I’ve had quite a lot of practice with this and have found that nothing takes the sting out of your dislike the way that asking God’s blessing on your enemy will.

That’s enemies, though. What about the brothers (and sisters)?

Well, last time I wrote a post, it was about this very thing. A man, professing faith in Christ, but openly practising hatred for me was causing some consternation. Aside from the variety of wise and Biblical advice you all gave me, I also received the inevitable enquiries as to his identity. Some people guessed correctly which is, I think, a comment in itself. I concealed his identity in the first place, not because I am particularly merciful, but because the blog was never about him. 

All any of us can control is our own behaviour, and our own response to these kinds of challenges. A person with anger management issues so bad that the mere sound of someone else’s voice throws them into a rage is really an object of pity. But after meditating on the matter for a time, I was brought to the verse, 1 John 4:20, ‘ Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar’. It is a grave consideration because it implies that either his profession is false, or mine is. 

His, or mine? Well, I can’t answer that, nor can he, nor can you. And perhaps that uncertainty should be our gift to one another. There is, after all, nothing more dangerous than the conviction that your salvation is sure, if it is not. Such a person is possibly more lost than the loudest atheist.

And so, the best thing that we can do – any of us – is to try to make our calling and election sure. I can think of worse places to start than by praying for the brothers, and for those who have done us wrong. Yes, it’s mighty hard, but the power of prayer is in the one who hears, not the one who speaks.