Do you have one? A favorite, angelic verse that speaks – no, sings – to you; that lulls you to sleep at night and whispers you awake in the morning again? That sometimes turns into an almost-Satanic verse by shouting at you when you’re wearily burying your head in your pillow and trumpeting you out of bed before dawn?

Right now, my bedevilling, blessing verse is I Peter 4:8:

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.

I’m the first to admit I don’t fully understand the implications of those 14 words. I know they’re important, because it’s the second time Peter says many of them in the span of one letter.

I know they’re important, because they’re preceded by the phrase “Above all”.

I know love is important, because that’s a word that personifies God.

I know “each other” is important, because our mutual love and unity was uppermost in Jesus’ thoughts when praying the night before He gave His life for us.

I know love obscures a lot of sin. Love makes it easier to ignore my kids’ tiny crimes and microscopic misdemeanors when I want them to be perfect like I can’t be.

I know God’s love has the power to render it invisible, washed clean away by the sacrificial blood of Christ and rinsed for good measure by the baptism that mirrors it.

I know the toughest word in the whole sentence is “deeply,” because it’s easy to love (puppies can do it); it’s easy to prioritize (bureaucrats can do it); it’s easy to hide sins (politicians and celebrities do it all the time) but to do anything deeply is bound to be hard.

Study. Believe. Care. I can do all that, and sometimes deeply. But to love deeply, especially those imperfect folks who make up my surround of “each others,” is not easy.

What I really don’t know is how.

And then I remember:

• We learn by hearing.
• We learn by repeating.
• We learn by watching.
• We learn by imitating.
• We learn by doing.

Well … right now, I’m only at the repeating stage with this verse.

But as I keep learning it, its voice is growing softer; it’s losing its horns and starting to grow white wings.

I don’t know how a movie could be any more chocked (forgive the pun) with Christian values than this four-years-in-the-making Disney-Pixar reunion movie. It survived their breakup; it may have helped nudge them toward reconciliation.

Because that’s part of what it’s about. That, and the value of friends and community. The treasure of small-town heritage. And the lure of the open road. (Jesus spent a lot of time on it, you know.)

Oh, and it’s also about selfless sacrifice.

All wrapped in a colorful eye-candy shell with a fast-paced, gorgeously-animated package and a killer soundtrack, including a score by Randy Newman.

And there’s a scene with tractors that will have you rolling (okay, no more puns) on your back with laughter. But I don’t want to have to post a plot spoiler here.

Just go see it. We went to see it Saturday night. My 13-year-old son liked it so much that he went to see it again Sunday night with a friend’s family.

I would have, too.

And, as with all Pixar movies, don’t leave before ALL the credits have rolled!

• Last week, some scientific research team somewhere announced their findings that road rage may be largely caused by hereditary factors. I’m not scientist, but my anecdotal research indicates that road rage is largely caused by other drivers doing stupid things which threaten your life and the lives of your passengers.
• Ann Coulter recently released a book called Godless which has already wasted more ink and pixels on criticism than it could be worth. But if they redesigned the cover, leaving out the subtitle between “Ann Coulter” and “Godless,” I think the cover, at least, might be more accurate.
• When my kids look back on this part of their history, will they talk about Bono the same way my generation talks about Mother Teresa?

“A new command I give you …”

Perhaps John sat up from reclining against his Master’s chest to look Him in the eye. Maybe Matthew made a mental note that he needed to remember this and write about it later. Then he forgot.

“… Love one another …”

Maybe the thought raced through all the minds of the eleven: Wait, that’s not new! That’s in Leviticus! You told us it was the second-greatest commandment after loving God with all our being!

Then the Master finishes His sentence: “… as I have loved you.”

Did they all think: Master, no! You say it’s time to be glorified; that you’re going away and we can’t follow; and … and you’re leaving us with this impossible new command? ‘As I have loved you’?

Though they have seen Him live this command every day, they will sometimes fail to obey it, but for the most part they will succeed.

So will we.

And someday we’ll join them in praise of the One who led a life of love; who went first where we have followed; who makes all things new.

One of the most profound bits of advice I have encountered is in Darryl Tippens’ new book Pilgrim Heart: “Let go.”

He is careful to explain that the person who gave it to him was not advising letting go of the end of the rope he found himself clinging to, but to let go of the frustration, helplessness, and overwhelming imperative need for self-sufficiency in a predicament beyond his control.

Let go. And trust God. Empty yourself.

Go kenotic, not psychotic.

What I wanted to do with this post is not what needs to be done. So as I put my fingers to the keyboard, with a good warmed-over anger seething and the eloquent riposts flowing and the self-righteous indignation honed to a slicing edge …

… unbidden, the words “Let go” came to my mind and heart from the pages of Pilgrim Heart I had read again earlier this week.

Let go.

Not Obi-Wan’s “Let go of your feelings”; not Jean-Luc Picard’s “Let the past be the past”; not the Beatles’ “Let it be.”

Just “let go.”

Why is it so hard to let go?

Why is it so hard to trust the One who formed you in the womb, has seen to your every need and perhaps permitted too many of your desires, and has sent His own dear Child to take the blame for your selfishness when your desires became more important than others’ needs?

Well, here it is: the post I didn’t intend to write.

I won’t regret it later, like the one I had to remove some time back.

You won’t know for sure what it was that I did intend to write, because I won’t post it later.

Because, for this one time, I just let go. And you know what?

It really does feel better.

It’s been a year, and a little more.

Do you remember A Christian Affirmation?

Did it rock your world? Did you rush to sign? Did you hold your breath to await the fallout? Did you pray that it would succeed in strengthening and uniting the fellowship of the Churches of Christ? Was it worth the price of a full-page ad in The Christian Chronicle and of a Web site?

It didn’t do much for me. I quietly sent my own response, and the signers of A Christian Affirmation were kind enough to post it on their site:

I would much rather have seen a document proposing the convening or committing of the best minds, hearts, prayers, wealth and other resources among us toward the proposition of inspiring, training and leading members of the body of Christ in telling His story to people who have never heard it nor perceived their own need for the benefits it offers.

That would be a project worthy of the leadership who signed “A Christian Affirmation” and of the approval and affirmation of many, many Christians. I believe it would have greater potential in motivating and uniting than this document’s ability to do so. However, I will borrow the wisdom of Gamaliel regarding the document: if it is of men, it will come to nothing; if it is of God, it would be pointless to oppose it.

Somewhat less gracefully, I posted a response some have felt was a parody of the Affirmation called One Christian’s Affirmation, and I have no quarrel with that word to describe it.

My opinion hasn’t changed, upon rereading the document more than a year later – though I am less proud of what I was feeling when I posted that second response. In fact, the whole idea has become a bit repellent to me: the idea of creating documents of policy and minimal requirement, full of vague wording that everyone can agree upon for the sake of everyone being right together and therefore united.

The whole value of having varied opinions on matters of opinion; of gaining perspective and strength through dialogue; of being blessed and matured by the interchange of ideas … is simply lost in such an approach.

I was curious to see if hundreds had “signed” the document by e-mail since its inception. I counted 53, in addition to the 24 original signatories, some of whom are siblings in Christ whose words and works have blessed me.

(Some, whose signatures there were a surprise to me.)

So maybe I was right about it having little value in forging unity.

Maybe they were right about it having great value.

The Affirmation did provoke us to briefly dialogue about some things … maybe until the reality descended upon us that virtually no one outside of Christ and very few people who have called on His name know or give a flying hoot about our fellowship’s “distinctive” opinions – or our petty squabbles and divisions – except those who cite them as evidence of our inability to love each other, and therefore as evidence that perhaps Jesus wasn’t the Christ, the Son of God, after all.

Maybe the Affirmation proved in an unintended way – a less-than-earth-shaking number of signers, ultimately – that what we share in common belief is so much more important than what we do not share in common opinion.

_{Postscript: Don’t use the old URL for the Christian Affirmation. It evidently was allowed to expire, or was hacked by German-language porno promoters. Oh, and Howard Norton is signed up twice.}