An artist is never so enamoured with the works he has created, masterpieces though they may be, as with the present work he has in hand. Not the perfected sculpture, but the stubborn, untamed block, intrigues, entices, and excites his creative inspiration. Likewise, the Lord is never so fond of his saints as of his sinners. God knows, the saints are full of graces, but the sinners are full of possibilities. And the saints, were they susceptible to envy, would no doubt envy us in a strange way, seeing that God is not yet done with us, and that it is our turn now; to discover his love for us, and to fall in love with him.
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Love is sufficient for the longings of the spirit. Love comforts and reproves, heals, tests, and strengthens, pacifies, invigorates, encourages, and instructs. To contemplate love is to make a study of all good things -- all God's things.
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Our love falters, sinks, recovers, and mounts up, but the love of God surrounds and infuses all that is. Our love is a trinket, little worth; a gift we are ashamed to give. His love is what upholds the world and makes it beautiful. We love him more or less, according to our moods. He loves us more each moment that we live.
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