A Reckless Love: Abandoned Social Norms

Editor's Note: This is the second piece of a reflective series entitled "A Reckless Love."


"You're an old man," Josh would say.

Naturally a morning person, I strive to be in bed by 10:30p.m. each night during the week.  This seemed absurd to Josh.

From time to time, much past 10:30p.m., he would come in my room and either lounge on the futon or invite himself to wake me up and lie in my bed.  It did not matter that I may have already been asleep for an hour or two.  What mattered to Josh was that we would be able to share life together.

Sometimes he would just tell me about his day, a thought on his mind, or challenge me to wake up and experience something that could apparently only occur past 10:30p.m.  He was willing to lay aside the social norm of sleep for the sake of intentionally demonstrating love.

In the days since Josh's death, I still anticipate each night that he may walk in the room one more time.  If I could only be roused once again and stumble out of bed to cherish a few moments with him now.

It is as if every time Josh woke me up he was reminding me: "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you."  A call to "walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us."

Josh Larkin continually loved by recklessly abandoning social norms.  He had hipster hair, endangered his life with extreme sports, awoke the sleeping, and spoke nearly unsettling words of truth.  I believe Josh chose to exemplify Christ.

From what I know of the Lord, He lived a life contrary what was accepted by society: demanding his disciples 'be last,' loving the outcasts, and challenging the religiously righteous.

Six weeks ago, we had a conversation about his internship plans this summer and how he needed to balance the rest of the semester's school requirements.  "You're teaching me to be more disciplined," he told me.  And be that as it may have been, Josh's reckless love is teaching me to abandon social norms to uncomfortably love.

It has been a stumbling, terribly, painful wonderful month since he left us.  And yet, for countless nights well past 10:30p.m. with studying left unfinished, I have recklessly shared tears, stories, challenging and convicting words, and worship with the men I call my friends, my brothers.