To Love Another Person

Like a typical teenager, I was angst filled when I found out that my youth group was going to see Les Miserables instead of Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. I didn’t want to see Les Mis; I wanted to see Phantom. Unlike many teenagers, however, I was on the edge of my seat as the lights came up for intermission that night. I didn’t understand a lot of the story line at that moment, but I understood the power of music and emotion…and both had swelled to a high peak during, “One Day More.”

Since that night in 1992, I have seen Les Miserables four more times—one of those times being last night in Greenville—and I’d love to see it again in coming years. I think it’s obvious that my teenage angst was misplaced. I’ve seen Phantom twice in the past couple of decades, and, well, I don’t really like it. But I digress…

While my coworker, Sandra, and I shared a nice meal at a downtown restaurant before the show, I said, “I’m going to cry. I don’t know when or at what point in the show I’ll be moved to tears. But I will cry. I’m a crier.”

And a crier I am…only…I didn’t cry when other people cried last night. Instead, I cried for Javert.

Extremely basic partial plot summary, no love story included: Jean Valjean served 27 years in prison for stealing a loaf of bread for his sister’s starving child. Upon his release, a priest granted him mercy and “bought his soul for God.” Valjean breaks “parole” to give himself and his “adopted” daughter a chance at life and becomes known as a fine, upstanding citizen and leader. Javert is a policeman who is set on justice. To him, the law is life and he seeks to enforce it at all costs. As his quest for justice—his desire to do what’s right in the eyes of God—comes face to face with Valjean’s life of mercy, Javert’s life begins to crumble…

I’ve been thinking a lot about scripture this week—about how Christians often tend to reduce understanding of scripture to one of moralistic standards and absolute proofs. But scripture is so much more than that. It is God’s word. It is alive, active, and powerful. It is always changing yet somehow staying the same. Scripture is God’s story of redemption in this world.

When we focus only on the moral elements of God’s story, then we tend to become a legalistic people. Our quest for holiness tends to become one of “Thou shalt nots” instead of one of “Thou shalts” (unless it is thou shalt attend church every time the doors open, wear only certain things, and listen only to Christian music). We tend to become so focused on the law that we miss the greater picture of relationship and love.

When Jesus declared the greatest commandment, he said that it was to love God with heart, soul, mind, and strength AND to love neighbor as self. When he spoke of the sheep and the goats, he didn’t say that the sheep would sit on his right because of following a moralistic, legalistic code. He said that they would take their inheritance in the Kingdom of God because they fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, cared for the sick, and visited those in prison.

Jean Valjean was a rescued sheep. Javert was a crippled lamb. Jean Valjean lived a life of service to others, spreading hope in a broken world despite his “criminal” past. Javert lived a life of serving the law and instilling fear despite being a man of unwavering moral principle. Both desired to be in God’s service—to do God’s work. As Valjean loved another person and saw the face of God, Javert sank into darkness, unable to accept grace.

So I cried for Javert last night. I cried for the Javert in me and for all of the Javerts in this world who want so desperately to be “holy” and to do what’s “right” that we limit ourselves from experiencing the full depth—and divine messiness—of the Kingdom of God. I cried for the crisis of belief—for the moments of brokenness when life becomes a question and faith becomes silent. I cried for those, like Javert, who feel that they have nowhere to turn when everything they’ve believed comes unraveled.

“Don’t give up,” I wanted to say. “God is there in the grace. God has always been there in grace. You’ve done your best. You’ve fought for justice. You’ve done what you knew to do. God is proud of you. God loves you. But God wants you to understand a different way. God wants you to know that you can live alongside mercy.”

I don’t know what will make me cry the next time I see Les Miserables. The tears come at different points each time I see the show, depending on the circumstances in my life. It’s kind of like scripture, I suppose—Holy Spirit speaking through the story, to the parts of me that are ready to hear, challenging me to let go of my angst…teenage or not.