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If I can communicate effortlessly with doctors and nurses, comprehending difficult medical terminology, but have not love, I am only an annoying know-it-all.
If I claim to understand exactly how other people feel and can anticipate their needs without them having to say anything—even if I consider myself to be a mature Christian—when I do it without love, my service is meaningless.
If I give of myself daily, sacrificing my own needs and doing everything I can to help others, but have not love, my sacrifice is empty.
Love is patient when the person I love is impossibly slow. Love is kind when the one I love snaps at me. It does not envy those who seem better off than me. It does not boast, it is not proud of all the things I do for others. It is not rude even when I’m at the end of my rope. It is not self-seeking in spite of the fact that I give so much of myself. It is not easily angered when I’m sleep-deprived or feel taken advantage of. It keeps no record of wrongs no matter how unfair my situation seems. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth even when I am unable to see my circumstances clearly. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres even when I feel helpless, hopeless, and afraid.
Love never fails.
Dear God and Author of love, please teach me to love as You do. Amen.