When perfection has come - another look at Paul's Ode to Love

I believe most of us live much of our younger years under the illusion of immortality. And that's okay—this illusion helps us face the challenges of each day. But when you grow older or you're confronted with a terminal diagnosis and a limited time to finish your life's performance, you're forced to look directly at the final curtain while simultaneously reflecting on the performance that led you there.

In October 2018, my wife and I both found ourselves confronting such a life-altering moment simultaneously. I was battling cobalt poisoning from a failed hip replacement, while she was struggling with a spinal infection following a five-level spinal fusion. We were both staring down the possibility of premature death at the same time, and we had to come to terms with it, even to the point of being ready to release each other to move on to a better place.

During that time, the thirteenth chapter of Paul's first letter to the Corinthian church took on new significance for me. I had memorized the chapter long before, and it had always held a special place in my life. However, faced with our existential crisis, I was compelled to take a deep, hard look at my life and assess my contribution and legacy. The pressing question was, "If I depart now, would anything I’ve done have eternal value?"

I had taken a hard look at my life, and it became painfully clear that it had been centred around me and mine. On the surface, it might have seemed like I was living a sacrificial life, but in reality, I was doing it all for myself. The true test came in how I reacted when my efforts didn’t bear fruit—how I tried to control others to change, to agree with me, to look up to me. I would get angry when they wouldn’t budge or when my efforts went unappreciated.

My ego had been at the centre of it all, leaving little space for others—even my own children. My concern was more about my image as a good parent being reflected in them than their actual happiness. Everything I touched was tainted by my self-centeredness. The beautiful house I had built had no real foundation.

The message slowly became clear: “If you do not have love, everything you touch has lost its eternal value”. I had no idea how to get that love but I knew it was the journey of my life.

Over the years, I often reflected on Paul's words: “For we know in part and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away. When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known. (1Co 13:9-12)

I wondered what, "But when that which is perfect has come," means in the context of the chapter. Was he referring to the Second Coming of Jesus, as I had always believed, or was he speaking from a personal experience?

I came to realize that this passage isn’t about eschatology; it’s an ode to love. In this context, I began to wonder if "when that which is perfect has come" might refer to an experience of perfect love. Perhaps Paul himself had a transformative encounter with perfect love that changed his life and way of thinking. It could have been the moment when he no longer saw "through a glass darkly," but began to see "face to face" and "knew as he was known."

I started to pray for such a revelation. I realised that it would transform my life but at the same time had no illusion about the possibility of living in such a revelation permanently.

During that time, Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians became my cry and I prayed it virtually every day for myself: “that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height— to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.” (Eph3:17-19)

I realized that he could only pray this for the Ephesians if he had already experienced it himself. He was praying for them to receive something he had already gone through.

About two years later, I unexpectedly experienced something extraordinary—a love without conditions. For a brief moment, I was able to love without needing a reason or justification. The sentence, "I love you because ..." lost the "because". This love flowed toward someone who hadn't earned it, almost as if it had its own momentum, and all I could do was follow its lead.

I had been deeply hurt by a close friend, experiencing a pain unlike anything I had ever felt before or since. For days, I wrestled with unforgiveness and a sense of entitlement, lost in a desert of bitterness. I was on my way to end the friendship and seek revenge when, suddenly, an overwhelming love—unlike anything I had ever known—overtook me. As I approached the phone, ready to act on my anger, my entire attitude shifted.

I had never realized I was capable of loving in such a way. I was completely unaware of the gift I had carried all along, so I had always relied on effort to love. But now, it felt as though I had been plunged into a fast-flowing river, and all I had to do was let the current carry me.

I began to understand that this might be the river flowing from the Source—the one whose trees hold the secret to healing the brokenness of life, as John described in his revelation.

For a moment, I glimpsed the future. I saw inclusivity, unity, and the healing of ancient divisions. I saw peace and prosperity—the healing of the nations. I saw what John described as the "thousand years of peace," a time when Christ rules on earth with his saints, and Love becomes the government. Could this be the "perfection" that Paul spoke of?

I touched something inexplicable, a love so profound that it lasted only a brief couple of hours before I slipped back into the belief that it was too good to be true. However, one thing that my doubt couldn’t erase was the memory of that experience—being immersed in a river of irrational, unconditional, other-centered love.

Since then, I've had a few more encounters with that profound love, often in the midst of difficult circumstances, only to lose it again—far too seldom and far apart for my liking. I still react with anger, seek my own interests, fight to protect myself, and strive to be loved by others. I struggle to believe, hope, bear, and endure all things most of the time.

Yet, having touched what seemed like perfect love, I find that I can return to that memory, and each return seems to come more easily. It feels as if I’ve stumbled upon a treasure in a field, and now all I want to do is sell everything I have to buy that field.

I realize now that I am carrying the treasure in my heart, and the field I seek to acquire is my moment-to-moment experience of life itself. It seems that integrating this love into every part of my existence may be the ultimate goal of my life.

My purpose is shifting from leaving a legacy and achieving success to becoming a showcase of a supernatural love that I could never manufacture in my seventy years. A peace that surpasses all understanding is growing within me, even when I still sometimes feel invalidated and like a failure.

I believe my journey might lead me to eventually "know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge” before I die and I am praying for that. And when doubt creeps in, I find comfort in Paul's words to the Ephesians: "Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, (Eph 3:20)

My journey produced this take on Paul’s poem:

Now the end is near,

And I face the final curtain.

I’ve lived a full life,

Travelled far and wide,

Created,

Established,

Broken down.

I’ve survived,

Conquered.

I will leave a legacy.

But I am ... a clanging cymbal in a brass band.

I’ve uncovered mysteries,

Heard God’s voice.

Prophesied,

Opened the way for many.

Seen miracles,

Made disciples,

Been discipled,

Been transformed.

But I am ... nothing.

I’ve given to the poor,

Spent my time, money, and self.

Opened my home to the destitute,

Shared my bread with the hungry.

Sacrificed loved ones on the altar of devotion,

Sacrificed myself.

But I am ... without profit.

I’ve looked at my life,

Discovered I’ve spent it on myself.

I... have been the hidden motive,

Self... the goal of all achievement.

Veiled by sacrifice,

Hidden behind monuments of success,

Tucked away in the ego...

Was I.

But then Love surprised me,

For a moment,

Love without a “because”

Rose up in me for someone without reason.

I discovered a love beyond me,

Perfection blossomed.

I loved with open hands,

Was patient with failures.

Felt kindness and spoke kind words.

For a moment,

I was not entitled,

There was nothing I desired or wanted.

No envy...

Just reasonless love.

For a moment,

I forgot my accomplishments,

There was no boasting,

No parade in my honour.

For the first time,

I loved more than myself.

At that moment,

I could not be provoked,

My thoughts were only for good.

I couldn’t even remember the hurts.

Rude judgment and finger-pointing disappeared.

I was out of the way completely.

I had connected with other-centeredness at last.

The joy was indescribable,

I felt like I was dancing with the Creator.

At last,

For a moment,

I was one with Eternity.

I could bear all things, hope all things, believe all things, and endure all things.

And I knew: this love cannot fail.

One day, my legacy will disappear,

Even the memory of my achievements will fade.

Permanence is something we can’t manufacture...

Everything but this love is temporary.

For all the rest of my life,

bound in futility,

I will groan with the whole of creation.

And now, facing the final curtain,

I’ve found a new quest:

To live in this love.

I had a glimpse through the two-way mirror called life,

Saw perfection reflected in imperfection.

I’ve left the things of childhood behind,

For a moment, embraced adulthood.

I am known,

and in that knowledge, I know,

I am seen; therefore, I can see.

I am who I am because I AM said that I am.

For a moment...

I was merely a waterwheel in the river of Love.

Perfection was made visible,

And brokenness became bearable,

As Love fills all things,

And is all in all.