The other night most of our family went to see “Les Miserables,” the inspiring, beautiful musical based upon the book by Victor Hugo. I think it was my 5th time seeing it–they could practically use me as an understudy! My husband and daughters have seen it several times as well, but our 2 youngest sons had not. My sons were not exactly overwhelmed with joy and gratitude at having to go to a musical. In fact, at intermission there was much weeping and gnashing of teeth. My daughter said that our 15 year old son had turned around about 10 minutes into the first act and asked her incredulously, “Is there not any talking?” When she whispered “No, all singing,” he responded with much disgust and despair: “O NO!” My first thought upon hearing this was despair as well, figuring if my children didn’t love musicals–and especially this one–I had utterly failed as a mother. But my second thought was to laugh and think “Lord, I love that boy! Thank You!”
I will never forget the first time I saw Les Miserables–at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. I was living up there at the time, and my older sister had gone to see this brand new musical no one had ever heard of with the congressional office where she worked. We all thought it sounded like just a terrible idea: a depressing french novel put to music? What on earth?! Who would want to see that?
But my dear sister was so moved that she went the very next day and bought our whole family tickets to see this remarkable show. Again, I was a bit dubious. After all, my sister, Mary Norris, is without a doubt the sweetest, kindest person walking on this planet (seriously, she is!), so I figured this had to be a bit of an exaggeration, and she was just being her usual sweet self. The night finally arrived, and our family was spread out all over the theater, since we couldn’t get tickets together.
And here’s what happened: I bawled my eyes out for almost 3 hours, as I sat next to a total stranger. But I bet she was probably bawling her eyes out as well–I didn’t notice since I was trying desperately to find something with which to wipe my nose and eyes. I think that pretty much reflected my whole family’s response to this incredible tale of love, forgiveness, and redemption. For that really is what it is–it is, in a way, a depiction of God’s love and forgiveness and grace in the Gospel, as set to music at the time of the French Revolution.
You know, there is just nothing more powerful than love and forgiveness, is there? Whenever we see such love and forgiveness displayed, we just have to stop and be awed by the beauty and glory of it. And of course, it is displayed most perfectly, most powerfully at the cross: “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him, shall not perish but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16) May we never get over the wonder of that! But sometimes it just helps to see it displayed in a different context–as Aslan laying down his life on the table of stone in Narnia, or, here, in Les Miserables, with so many characters in so many different ways, but especially with Jean Valjean. It is a story just dripping with grace upon grace, and when we see such grace displayed, it just overwhelms you.
John Newton had it right: “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found; was blind but now I see.” Grace is just amazing!
But what really stuck me this time around was the depiction of friendship and love. There are countless examples of men and women and even children loving and sacrificing for one another. My daddy always loved the song all the students sing as they sat around, sharing a mug, the night before they know they will probably die at the barricade. It is a bittersweet song about the profound joy of friendship with words like “At the shrine of friendship never say die; Let the wine of friendship never run dry; Here’s to you and here’s to me.”
My favorite words about love and friendship, however, occur near the very end of the play when Jean Valjean sings, as he dies, “To love another person is to see the face of God.” I have thought a lot about that, for isn’t that so true? God calls us to love one another, and when we love others, we see a tiny glimpse of the heart of our relentlessly loving Lord. What a gift, what a privilege, and what a joy it is to have dear friends and family to love.
There truly is nothing more powerful in this world than love. Love created this universe, love sent a Savior, love redeemed the souls of the lost. And love brings hope to the hopeless. Love causes the unforgivable to be forgiven. Love prompts acts of service and sacrifice from the battlefield to the mission field to the everyday field of our daily lives. Love brings color and laughter and warmth to our sometimes drab and monotonous world.
How thankful I am for the myriad treasures of love God has bestowed upon me–my husband, my children, my brothers and sisters, my dear friends. They are all like little gifts, wrapped up in so many different colors and patterns of paper, all so unique and individual, and all bringing such joy and wonder into my utterly undeserving life. O, to love another person is to see the face of God!
How can we deserve such a privilege–to love and be loved? Sure, it’s messy sometimes. It’s exhausting sometimes. It’s just downright hard and uncomfortable and irritating sometimes. And sometimes the wrapping paper on these gifts gets a bit tattered or worn or unappealing.
But then we remember who the Giver is, and we see His nail scarred hands as He holds each of these gifts out to us. And we just have to stop and say, “Thank You, thank You, thank You!” Help us, Lord Jesus, to love as You love, to forgive as You forgive, to treasure as You treasure, these priceless, eternal packages of love You have bestowed upon our lives. What irreplaceable gifts are these friends and family! How inexpressibly joyful to love another person–another sinner just like you and just like me–and to see the face of the God in all that love. To the Source and the Sustainer of all that love–the Son, the Savior–be all the glory forever.
Soli Deo Gloria 