A few days ago, I went to mass for the first time in 30 years, when my grandparents last took me. It was a beautiful December morning, a hazy sun shimmering through the frosty forest. I cycled to the church in the nearest village, walked in, and found my place on one of the wooden benches.
Only a handful of people showed up. Most of them were double my age, and one stern-looking younger man, hair well-trimmed, wearing a stylish overcoat. It must have been quite a sight. My long hair, thick Norwegian sweater, and muddy riding boots made me feel out of place.
I had no idea what I was in for or what brought me there. Curiosity, perhaps, and a deepening interest in what has been considered our faith for a long time. The pastor was an African man who delivered his sermon passionately. He lived it, and he moved me deeply.
The sermon was about the importance of surrendering to love. Although we might have the illusion of control, ultimately, we are at the mercy of life itself. Bad things happen, even with our best intentions, dreams, and aspirations. The experience of life is a gift we receive, and it can be taken away from us in a heartbeat.
The only thing we can ultimately control is how deeply we fall in love with life precisely as it is. And when we explore our capacity to love deeply, no matter what arises, we gain something far more powerful than control, money, or power.
As I sat there, praying for more light in the world with the others, I could feel it moving me: a deep, loving presence rising out of the dark, shining through the cracks between my thoughts and feelings—an indescribable, loving awareness, which felt so near yet so fleeting at the same time.
You may know what I’m talking about. It doesn’t matter. When we practice surrendering to this deep love within—giving up ourselves and our illusion of control over life regardless of what we are feeling—we receive three powerful gifts of life in return: goodness, truth, and beauty.
We cannot be in love and be hateful, untrue, or ugly. When we practice living in love, we become as love. The practice is in every moment anew. Therefore, as I go about my days, I ask myself frequently, what would love do? It helps to remind me whether I am still in touch with what is good, true, and beautiful in my life.
Published on by Sacha Post. This essay is part of the weekly letters. Explore more essays on winter in the archives.