She glared indignantly, bristled, then turned swiftly, making her petticoats blow the dusty Colorado Springs soil around her. That’s right, Dr. Mike, you tell ‘em!
Saving patients, defending the Cheyenne or proving her medical expertise, the lady protagonist in the television series Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman never takes no for an answer. While snowed-in during the first blizzard last weekend, my sister and I absorbed the entire first season of my favorite childhood drama. My mind flooded with memories of the many years and Saturday nights spent watching the show with my family more than a decade ago. However, this time, I was keenly aware of Dr. Quinn’s stubbornness and of the countless times she exploded in with riled responses. “No one can tell me how to run my life,” “Nothing can stop me,” or “If you won’t do it, then I will.” And in sixty minutes time, no one could tell her, nothing did stop her, and she went on and did it, just like she said!
It is interesting how the fictional characters I have admired most, including Jane Austen’s Elizabeth Bennet, L.M. Montgomery’s Anne Shirley, and the aforementioned Dr. Michaela Quinn, are downright headstrong and passionate, willing to do almost anything to prove they are capable, independent women. And this time as I watched the fiery doctor turn on her heels and ignore the people or situations creating obstacles, I discovered my own heels have been digging in the ground recently, and in a tremendous desire for control over my own life, I too have been flinging dust in the eyes of those around me.
What is quite striking is how this independent spirit rises up and interferes most in the relationships where we are genuinely struggling to truly love. Among family, with friends, and in the midst of living situations, we often wish to be left alone, to do our own thing without interference. Our plans are our own. Our time and to-do lists belong to us. Our eating, sleeping, or work habits should be ours too. We imagine it’s possible to compartmentalize love: I’ll love intentionally at the dinner table, in the dining hall and when it’s time to turn out the lights, but all bets are off as soon as the ability to manage my own affairs is challenged. My life! Mine. Mine? That whole intent to be more loving is then foiled by the ever-charming “Me-Gremlin” let loose to wreak havoc in our relationships. In our desire for independence, we actually become slaves to our selfish desires and even our sharp tongues.
We can look at 1 Corinthians 13 for the perfect model of love. It’s prepared with patience and kindness. Then it's mixed with forgiveness and humility. Add the trust and hope, a dash of protection with a pinch of perseverance, sift out the rudeness and boastfulness, stir in the truthfulness, and suddenly we’ve just tried to follow is a simple recipe for love. However, I was reminded last fall that this famous chapter on love comes directly after the passage describing the Church as a body of believers, with all members dependent on their fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. To love is to be part of the community, to sign your “x” on the dotted line, to commit to being part of your family’s household, friend group, fellowship, living situation, and to be all in, even when it’s ridiculously tough to love.
Jesus put it all in, no take-backs, no broken promises, no running away when the crowds sought after Him, no calling on His angels to bring Him bread nor ordering them to halt the soldiers as they crucified Him. He never tried to concoct his own plan to atone for the sins of man. He promised, obeyed, submitted, followed through, and LOVED without ever seeking to make Himself independent of the Father’s will.
May our own independent spirits no longer hold us as slaves to our selfishness and desire for control. And, as we discern where and with whom we are most obstinate, or refusing to love completely, may our spirits remain forever in Christ, who gave us true independence through His selfless acts of love for us.
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