On the outskirts of Pasadena a little café is known for its chicken potpies. The plaid-covered booths are faded and the rest of the décor looks like it’s straight out of a 1970s movie. But the kitchen is clean, the atmosphere warm, and the chicken potpies are out of this world. My husband, Jeff, first took me there when we were dating, and we’ve been going back ever since.

Every time we go there for dinner, we’re usually the youngest patrons in the restaurant by at least two or three decades. We love it. We feel like we’re in a time warp, and we’ve come to think of it as a picture of what we want to be doing years from now — sitting in an old booth at a much-loved café, enjoying our meal and each other’s company.

We love watching the other folks in the restaurant too. There’s always a couple or two, sitting side by side rather than across from each other, and they’re eating off each other’s plates. They’ve known each other so long that they don’t even need to ask anymore. He knows she doesn’t want her peas, so he scoops them up, while she knows he can’t have salt on his mashed potatoes, so she slides the salt shaker to the far end of the table.

Their meal together is like a well-choreographed dance . . . a sweet picture of enduring love.

While sharing a chicken potpie, Jeff and I capture real-life scenes of enduring love that are better than anything Hollywood could ever dream up. Most romantic movies depict the courtship, the young-and-in-love couple overcoming all odds to be together. Once they’re together, though, the movie ends. But in real life, that’s when real love begins.

Real love is more than a deep feeling between two people. That can be part of it, for sure, but real love is committed to knowing all they can about the other person, and staying together through good times and bad.

In the same way, real love is also exemplified between friends and neighbors and strangers who are committed to listening to each other’s story and supporting one another. Heaven knows we need more of God’s love in this world. When Paul prayed for the Philippians, he didn’t pray their love would grow deeper in feeling; he prayed their love would grow in knowledge and discernment.

I pray this: that your love will keep on growing in knowledge and every kind of discernment. {Philippians 1:9}

Today, we don’t hear the words love, knowledge, and discernment used much in the same sentence. The world would tell us love is blind. But real love isn’t blind. Real love doesn’t hide from truth.

When others are hurting, real love says, “I see you, I want to know your story, and I’m here for you.”

Friends, our world is hurting. Our sisters and brothers are hurting. In recent weeks we’ve beheld heartbreaking pictures of strife and enmity. Our hearts have been broken over the brokenness splayed on streets and screens.

I may not fully understand the hurt others have experienced, but I can’t say I love you if I’m not willing to see you and know your struggle. Real love enters into the struggle of another human being and says, “Tell me your story. I want to hear, I want to help, and I want you to know you’re not alone.”

This is how Jesus loved us. He entered into our struggle when He came to earth wrapped in flesh. He sat at a well and listened to the heart of a woman scorned. He sat at a table and silenced those who tried to shame a woman washing His feet with her tears. He knelt in a garden and prayed for His friends as well as His enemies. Ultimately, He hung on a cross and forgave the very people who crucified Him. And His forgiveness extends to you and me today.

Jesus is the truest picture of real love.

He came. He listened. And He gave of Himself so we could be free from all the brokenness that binds us.

The more I think about it, the more Paul’s prayer make sense, for when we grow in true knowledge and discernment, we also grow in love. Real love for one another. For God’s heart is known best when His people dwell in unity.

My husband and I like to share our stories over chicken potpies. But it’s equally important that I sit around tables and in living rooms, listening to the stories of others, entering into their struggles.

A Prayer: LORD, open my eyes that I may see as You see. Open my ears that I may hear the stories of those who are hurting. Open my heart to better understand the suffering that others have endured. Open my hands that I may serve my sisters and brothers with the beauty of Your grace. Amen.

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This is a partial excerpt from Denise’s forthcoming Bible study, Word Writers: Philippians, now available for pre-order.

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