Imperfect Love: Struggling to Love Like God

“[Y]ou see in yourself word and understanding, an imitation of the very Mind and Word. Again, God is love…the Fashioner of our nature has made this to be our feature too.”

— St. Gregory of Nyssa, On the Making of Man 5.2

These words of St. Gregory wonderfully and concisely capture the human condition as being made in the Image and Likeness of God. Often, despite striving to reach the measure of God’s love and to cultivate pure, selfless hearts in accordance with His example, we find ourselves unable to love as He loves, and may even realize that we can go so far as to hurt those whom we love the most. “Why is this the case,” we may wonder. In his Epistle to the Romans, St. Paul provides an insightful response: “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”[1] As a result of sin and the corruption which it caused to human nature, humanity is unable to offer a perfect love apart from God who is Himself love.

In its very essence, sin — the corruption that marred God’s “very good”[2] creation – is separation.[3] After Adam and Eve disobeyed God and ate from the fruit of the tree, the results of their sin were realized: they perceived their nakedness and their differences, and suddenly, the unity and harmony which they previously enjoyed was replaced with separation both from one another, and, as they would quickly discover, from God as well.[4] In their response to God, the mark of selfishness likewise becomes evident: “The woman whom You gave to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I ate.”[5] Indeed, selfishness and self-interest become those characteristics which divide and separate us from others, and, ultimately, from God.

I. The Body of Christ: “As it is, there are many parts, but one body.”[6]

In contrast with the separation and division which entered into the human condition through sin is the oneness of the Body of the sinless One — the Church. St. Paul, in writing to the Corinthians, exhorts them towards unity: “[b]ut God composed the body, having given greater honor to that part which lacks it, that there should be no schism in the body, but that the members should have the same care for one another. And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; or if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it.”[7]

A failure to cultivate this oneness on the part of the believers, which requires the selfless carrying of one another’s burdens and sufferings, keeps the walls of separation strong. St. Basil the Great echoes this teaching of St. Paul, explaining that it is selfishness that leads to the destruction of community and the loss of true love; to seek one’s own advantage is to deny the command to love one another as Christ has loved us.[8] Self-interest, as St. Basil reveals, becomes the foundation of failure within relations. For instance, a spouse who demands to be treated according to their own “love language” and disregards that of their partner practices an imperfect, selfish love; likewise, a child who expresses frustration in their parents’ failure to understand them while denying them the opportunity to understand them, or even a parent who exerts their own preferences on their child without attempting to understand their child and their differences from them, similarly practice an imperfect love. The expectations of what another “should do” in a relationship, or what one “deserves” from a relationship, ought not be divorced from the kind of love which God both instructs us to establish and exemplifies in His relation with us.

Regarding selfish love and its faults, the Scriptures speak at length. In the Song of Songs, we observe the separation that results from self-interested expectations and selfishness. There, King Solomon tells of the Shulamite’s troubled night which begins when he seeks her and receives no answer. Upon hearing his voice, the Shulamite says:

“I sleep, but my heart is awake; It is the voice of my beloved! He knocks, saying, ‘Open for me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfect one; For my head is covered with dew, my locks with the drops of the night.’ I have taken off my robe; how can I put it on again? I have washed my feet; how can I defile them? My beloved put his hand by the latch of the door, and my heart yearned for him. I arose to open for my beloved, and my hands dripped with myrrh, My fingers with liquid myrrh, on the handles of the lock. I opened for my beloved, but my beloved had turned away and was gone. My heart leaped up when he spoke. I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer. The watchmen who went about the city found me. They struck me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took my veil away from me. I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that you tell him I am lovesick!”[9]

While the Shulamite hears her beloved’s voice and is overjoyed at the opportunity to see him, her self-concern delays her and causes her to just miss her bridegroom who was waiting for her at the door. Her self-awareness and hesitancy in putting her robe back on and defiling her feet again to open the door for her bridegroom directly cause her to miss him — he leaves before she reaches him. Suddenly, what was once a door separating them became much more, and the Shulamite found herself struck, wounded, and lovesick for her beloved who was just behind the door waiting for her.[10] Augustine writes of selfishness in love, that “two cities have been formed by two loves: the earthly by the love of self, even to the contempt of God; and the heavenly by the love of God, even to the contempt of self.”[11]

Despite the presence of deep love, one’s self-centered orientation causes harm both to himself and to those whom he strives to love, sometimes even unknowingly and alongside good intentions. This inclination and weakness thus make something as simple (though crucial to the spiritual life) as love feel almost impossible. St. Paul describes this spiritual struggle, stating:

“For what I am doing, I do not understand. For what I will to do, that I do not practice; but what I hate, that I do. If, then, I do what I will not to do, I agree with the law that it is good. But now, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me.  For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh) nothing good dwells; for to will is present with me, but how to perform what is good I do not find. For the good that I will to do, I do not do; but the evil I will not to do, that I practice. Now if I do what I will not to do, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me.”[12]

It is then evident that absent God’s hand and guidance, humanity alone cannot truly love perfectly. Its love remains imperfect because humanity fell from the Image after which it was created — that of Him who is Himself perfect love. The effects of this selfish love are innumerable, as discussed, and appear most clearly in one’s blindness to the needs of others in preference to their own desires. As St. Basil writes “[y]es, while the glitter of gold so allures you, you fail to notice how great are the groans of the needy that follow you wherever you go.”[13]

The route to true, Christ-like, holy love is kenosis, or self-emptying.[14] From the life of His Holiness Pope Kyrillos VI, and most prominently his self-denial, we may extrapolate a framework and blueprint for the self-emptying love that Christ models for us and towards which He exhorts us. We are told by Fr. Daniel Fanous in his biographical work on Pope Kyrillos VI that “Kyrillos was utterly convinced that…unity must in a very real sense be kenotic, that is, self-emptying. [He believed that] [e]ach competing voice of reform…must, without compromise, ‘disappear’ that Christ might appear and heal his despondent Church.”[15] It is His Holiness’ conscious emptying of his own desires, thoughts, and preferences that laid the groundwork for the positive Church reforms of his papacy. What allowed His Holiness Pope Kyrillos VI to lead the Church towards edification and flourishing was this deep faith and conviction that God, and not himself or any man, is the beneficent Pantocrator who cares and provides for His Bride, the Church.

Modeling ourselves after this saint’s example requires us to acknowledge and recognize Christ’s hand in our lives. Despite our weaknesses and shortcomings, He assures us, saying, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”[16] It is He who helps carry the crosses of His children each day, and it is likewise He who ultimately died on the Cross for them. This sacrificial, kenotic act is precisely what He exhorts His children to emulate and exemplify in their dealings with each person.

In order to take up this journey of conformity to Christ, and of walking with Him towards perfection, we must first discern the condition of imperfect love. St. Paul writes to the Ephesians: “Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave Himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”[17] By looking to Him who is Love, we can see most clearly the perfect love which beckons us to walk according to His steps. This perspective enables us to trust in His love and care for those whom we seek to love. Augustine, in his Expositions on the Psalms, instructs us to entrust those whom we love — and even our enemies — to Him, for His love is perfect.[18] In submitting ourselves to Him, we fulfill the advice of the Apostle Peter, “casting all [our] cares upon Him,” including also those whom we love, and their wellbeing, “for He cares for [us].”[19] This is the ultimate and perfect act of love — giving our whole being to Him who loves us most perfectly, even to the point of death on our behalf.[20]

II. Christ: Meeting our Bridegroom

As Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden as a result of their sin, God was already working the ultimate plan of their restoration to and reunification with Him. While humanity would experience many highs and lows in its journey to its Beloved, He patiently watched, guided, and prepared His bride — the Church, His chosen People — in anticipation of the wedding feast ahead. Much like the Shulamite bride on her troubled night, humanity’s selfish and self-centered tendencies often led it to miss its Bridegroom, even when He was to be found just behind the door. While Christ “stand[s] at the door and knock[s]”[21] we may frequently find ourselves still occupied with putting on our robes or worried about soiling our feet. In contrast, the Lord’s selfless love leads Him to the road to Golgotha, to His betrothal to His Church, not with the finest of robes, but rather with a striped back and crown of thorns.

Through this dichotomy, human love is assuredly differentiated from divine love. Many fathers of the Church therefore caution against this self-seeking approach to one’s relationship with God. For example, St. Basil writes:

“[A] beginning is made by detaching oneself from all external goods: property, vainglory, life in society, [and] useless desires, after the example of the Lord’s holy disciples. James and John left their father Zebedee and the very boat upon which their whole livelihood depended. Matthew left his counting house and followed the Lord, not merely leaving behind the profits of his occupation but also paying no attention to the dangers which were sure to befall both himself and his family at the hands of the magistrates because he had left the tax accounts unfinished. To Paul, finally, the whole world was crucified, and he to the world.”[22]

By cultivating this selfless love for God and all His creation, we come to learn the truth of the Lord’s saying, “My yoke is easy, and My burden is light,”[23] for when one loves God for Who He is, and not merely on account of the blessings He provides, he realizes the profound joy and gladness that ensue from walking with the Lord.

The Scriptures warn against seeking Christ merely for material purposes. When the Lord was sought by the multitudes after they were miraculously fed by Him, He emphasizes this perspective to them: “Most assuredly, I say to you, you seek Me, not because you saw the signs, but because you ate of the loaves and were filled.”[24] Correcting their improper approach, He continues: “Do not labor for the food which perishes, but for the food which endures to everlasting life, which the Son of Man will give you, because God the Father has set His seal on Him.”[25] Apart from the Lord’s direct teaching in the Gospels, the Old Testament likewise carries this message. In the experience of Job, it is evident that if Job’s love for God was founded in the material wealth and many blessings he enjoyed, he would have surely turned away from Him when those things were abruptly taken from him in his trial by the devil. Rather, Job’s love for God Himself allowed him to remain steadfast and faithful, even when his own wife and close friends goaded him to “curse God and die.”[26]

The pursuit of ease and personal gain in this life prevents one from enjoying the presence of God and blinds his eyes from seeing Christ because it rather fixes his attention on himself. Thus, St. Augustine plainly reflects: “he loves You too little who loves anything with You, which he loves not for You.”[27] St. John Chrysostom similarly exhorts his hearers:

“He came to do away with the old things, to call us to a greater country. Therefore He does all, to deliver us from things unnecessary, and from our affection for the earth. For this cause He mentioned the heathens also, saying that the Gentiles seek after these things; they whose whole labor is for the present life, who have no regard for the things to come, nor any thought of Heaven. But to you not these present are chief things, but other than these. For we were not born for this end, that we should eat and drink and be clothed, but that we might please God, and attain unto the good things to come. Therefore as things here are secondary in our labor, so also in our prayers let them be secondary.”[28]

By seeking God for His own sake, we receive the means by which to obtain perfect love. When one finds God, he finds love, for God is just that — love. It is only with and through God that we can learn to love perfectly. For this reason, St. Macarius the Great writes that “[t]he lamp is always burning and shining, but when it is specially trimmed, it kindles up with intoxication of the love of God; and then again by God’s dispensation it gives in, and though the light is always there, it is comparatively dull.”[29] Indeed, as the Scriptures reveal: “without Me you can do nothing,”[30] and “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”[31]

From the spiritual journey of the Apostle Peter, this worldview comes to life. The Gospels do not shy away from displaying the shortcomings of even the closest disciples of Christ, for the edification of His followers thereafter. Shortly before the Pascha of our Lord, St. Peter exclaims, “[e]ven if all are made to stumble because of You, I will never be made to stumble.”[32] When Christ tells him that he will deny Him, he responds emphatically, “[e]ven if I have to die with You, I will not deny You!”[33] Shortly thereafter, as the rooster crows, we find St. Peter struck deeply by Christ’s words to him and weeping bitterly.[34] It is only after the Resurrection of Christ that St. Peter is shown how to love Him. Christ reveals to him the sacrificial nature of perfect love, calling him to feed His lambs, tend His sheep, and feed His sheep.[35]

The love which the Lord embodies, teaches, and shows His disciples is palpably self-emptying. It is centered around serving others: “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many.”[36] In its foundation, the quintessential ingredient for knowing and experiencing this love is therefore service — looking away from one’s personal gain for the sake of others. While venturing into this love is as treading into uncharted waters, when we fix our gaze on Him who is Himself love, who is able not only to walk on water, but also to enable St. Peter to do the same, we find ourselves capable of walking confidently towards Him.[37] And like St. Peter, only when we begin to fear for ourselves and our own good, happiness, and gain do we consequently find ourselves sinking quickly.[38] In spite of our own shortcomings, God is faithful to extend His hand and pull us out of the depths and into His secure, nurturing, and loving embrace.[39]

St. Macarius the Great neatly summarizes this teaching, writing that “faithful souls receive that divine and heavenly fire…and that fire forms a heavenly image upon their humanity.”[40] By seeking to be reconciled once again to the Image of God after which we were created, through the grace of God, we are able to perfect our otherwise imperfect love, for “we love Him because He first loved us.”[41]

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[1] Romans 3:23 NKJV (Hereinafter, all Scriptural references are taken from the New King James Version).

[2] See Genesis 1:31.

[3] “But your iniquities have separated you from your God; and your sins have hidden His face from you, so that He will not hear” (Isaiah 59:2).

[4] "For if sin sunders and dissevers man from God, surely righteousness will be a bond of union, and will somehow set us by the side of God Himself, with nothing to part us." (St. Cyril of Alexandria, Commentary on John); See generally Genesis.

[5] Genesis 3:12.

[6] 1 Corinthians 12:20.

[7] 1 Corinthians 12: 24-26.

[8] See generally St. Basil of Caesarea, On Social Justice, Homily 2, To the Rich.

[9] Song of Songs 5:2-8.

[10] It is pertinent to note that this does not only apply to human relationships, but also one’s relationship with God. As the Song of Songs is a representation of Christ’s love of His Church, one cannot discuss this Scriptural book without noting that it is this same selfishness that separates us from Christ, even when He knocks at the door.

[11] St. Augustine, City of God, Book XIV, Chapter 13.

[12] Romans 7:15-20.

[13] See C. Paul Schroeder, On Social Justice: St. Basil the Great, 64 (SVS Press, 2009).

[14] See Philippians 2:5-7.

[15] Fr. Daniel Fanous, A Silent Patriarch: Kyrillos VI: Life and Legacy, 226.

[16] 2 Corinthians 12:9.

[17] Ephesians 5:1-2.

[18] See Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms (Nicene & Post-Nicene Fathers, Series I, vol. 8, pg. 210).

[19] 1 Peter 5:7.

[20] It would be regretful to not note that in Christ’s unceasing and immense mercy, even our mere acknowledgement that we have hurt those we love, and our repentance and will to place them into His perfect hands despite what it may mean for us, not only results in what is best for them but also provides us immense spiritual blessing.

[21] See Revelation 3:20.

[22] St. Basil of Caesarea, Long Rules 8.

[23] Matthew 11:30.

[24] John 6:26.

[25] John 6:27.

[26] Job 2:9; see generally Job.

[27] St. Augustine, Confessions, X.29.

[28] St. John Chrysostom, Homilies on Matthew 22.4.

[29] Macarius, Homily 8.2 (A.J. Mason, The Fifty Spiritual Homilies of St. Macarius the Egyptian, 66).

[30] John 15:5.

[31] Philippians 4:13.

[32] Matthew 26:33.

[33] Matthew 26:35.

[34] Matthew 26:75.

[35] John 21:15-17.

[36] Mark 10:45.

[37] Matthew 14.

[38] Ibid.

[39] Ibid.

[40] Macarius, Homily 11.2 (Mason, 80).

[41] 1 John 4:19.

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Hilana Said is a Coptic Orthodox Christian and a licensed attorney. She graduated from Albany Law School in 2023. Hilana developed a love for academic reading and writing during her time on the Executive Board of the Albany Law Review. Her deep faith and Coptic Orthodox heritage play an integral role in her personal and professional life and serve as constant inspiration for her academic pursuits.

Cover Image by Johann Sadeler.

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