One of the sayings about God that have grown at the same time most trite and most sacred, is that God is Love.  This is a saying that deserves careful examination.  Love is a word very loosely used; there are people who will say they love new potatoes; there are a multitude of loves of different colours and values.  There is the love of a mother for her child, there is the love of brothers, there is the love of youth and maiden, and the love of husband and wife, there is illicit love and the love one bears one’s home or one’s country, there are dog-lovers and the loves of the Olympians, and love which is a passion of jealousy.  Love is frequently a mere blend of appetite and preference; it may be almost pure greed; it may have scarcely any devotion nor be a whit self-forgetful nor generous.  It is possible so to phrase things that the furtive craving of a man for another man’s wife may be made out to be a light from God.  Yet about all the better sorts of love, the sorts of love that people will call “true love,” there is something of that same exaltation out of the narrow self that is the essential quality of the knowledge of God.

Only while the exaltation of the love passion comes and goes, the exaltation of religious passion comes to remain.  Lovers are the windows by which we may look out of the prison of self, but God is the open door by which we freely go.  And God never dies, nor disappoints, nor betrays.

The love of a woman and a man has usually, and particularly in its earlier phases of excitement, far too much desire, far too much possessiveness and exclusiveness, far too much distrust or forced trust, and far too great a kindred with jealousy to be like the love of God.  The former is a dramatic relationship that drifts to a climax, and then again seeks presently a climax, and that may be satiated or fatigued.  But the latter is far more like the love of comrades, or like the love of a man and a woman who have loved and been through much trouble together, who have hurt one another and forgiven, and come to a complete and generous fellowship.  There is a strange and beautiful love that men tell of that will spring up on battlefields between sorely wounded men, and often they are men who have fought together, so that they will do almost incredibly brave and tender things for one another, though but recently they have been trying to kill each other.  There is often a pure exaltation of feeling between those who stand side by side manfully in any great stress.  These are the forms of love that perhaps come nearest to what we mean when we speak of the love of God.

That is man’s love of God, but there is also something else; there is the love God bears for man in the individual believer.  Now this is not an indulgent, instinctive, and sacrificing love like the love of a woman for her baby.  It is the love of the captain for his men; God must love his followers as a great captain loves his men, who are so foolish, so helpless in themselves, so confiding, and yet whose faith alone makes him possible.  It is an austere love.  The spirit of God will not hesitate to send us to torment and bodily death. . . .