Furious Love

jane: I was surprised that I felt a twinge of sadness when I heard on March 23 that Elizabeth Taylor passed away. I knew from checkout-aisle tabloid headlines her health was declining, but her death marked for me what I'd call the passing of Old Hollywood, when there were stars, not mere celebrities. I can remember Elizabeth Taylor as the actress, not as the caricature she became, the plumped-up woman with the witchy hair and screechy voice who befriended Michael Jackson, married Larry Fortensky, and peddled White Diamonds perfume.

Years ago I plowed through Elizabeth: The Life of Elizabeth Taylor. What a fascinating read about Taylor's early life and the lengths to which MGM went to create and promote her. Then, last summer, I read Furious Love: Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, and the Marriage of a Century. Let's just say, before “Brangelina,” it was all about Liz and Dick. In the '60s, their torrid affair was scandalous, because they were married to others (Taylor had married Eddie Fisher, who left Debbie Reynolds for Taylor -- that in itself a scandal). Taylor and Burton eventually married -- twice. And after reading this biography, I went away convinced they truly did love each other -- only just too much. Their relationship became obsessive, jealous, self-destructive; it flamed out in ruins.

So I've been pondering the destructive nature of loving something too much -- loving a person, a possession, even a position. I know that the thought of losing my husband, or my children, and now my newborn granddaughter, terrifies me. I can't imagine life without them. Could I love them too much? What do you think about all this, Betsey? Do you ever think you love “too much”?

betsey: I probably do, but I think for me it’s more an attachment to my style of life, if that makes sense. I watch young couples from our church departing for the mission field, leaving family and friends and comforts behind, and I think, I could never do that. I don’t hold things lightly enough. You know me -- I adore my dog, my home, our cozy little village surrounded by green space. I think about things like buying new Fiesta Ware pieces and who we should entertain next. I have a certain fear of all this being taken away. As to the dear ones in my life, yes, I deeply fear losing them, but I don’t think it’s in a destructive, Liz-and-Dick kind of way.

jane: This reminds me of what C.S. Lewis talks about in The Four Loves . . . how romantic love can become so demanding that it replaces God and becomes a religion in itself. Lewis would suggest that unless this romantic love, or Eros, is ruled by God's love, it can become almost a demonic force in our lives. That's a pretty good definition of idolatry, when you think of it. Our idols aren't necessarily golden calves; they're the possessions and even perhaps the people who replace God in our lives.

I hate to admit it, but I think sometimes I've made an idol out of my marriage and my home. The amount of time I spend obsessed about aspects of my house convicts me. And I often think of Rich as my “rock” and “my shelter from the storm,” which he is. But God is to be all those things to me, supremely so.

betsey: I’ve thought of that with single people I know -- where do they turn? Not to fall into that cliché about the single who walks more closely with God, but I can see in some instances how God would become more urgently real to you. At the same time, I am convinced that if you and your spouse, or you and your child, or you and your dear friend, are together “rooted and established in love,” as Paul says in Ephesians, your love can look outward with generosity and be used to bless others.

Liz with Richard Burton

jane: Liz and Dick modeled an obsessive passion unsubdued or controlled by God's love. So how do you remain passionately in love without straying into Liz-and-Dick territory?

betsey: I think it begins with the sense of the one you love being first and foremost a child of God, someone very dear to Him whom He has entrusted to your care. We do need to have a sense that anything, no matter how good, can become an idol. And we need to see our love as a laboratory for growing in Christ. The best book ever about all this is Walter Wangerin’s book on marriage, As for Me and My House.

Walter Wangerin, Jr. 

jane: Okay, but when scary things threaten someone you love, how do you do that on a practical level? Confession, relinquishment, and worship -- I think these are all part of the process of surrendering idols . . . but it's hard to keep them from making a stronghold in your life. At least, it is for me.

betsey: I guess I think we need to go deeper on exactly what is an “idol” and what is passionate and appropriate attachment. Like, I would hate to lose our beautiful house. But is that because it’s an idol or because it’s a terrible thing to lose one’s home?

jane: That's a really good point, Betsey. But I suppose, in a way, it could be a little of both, too. I wonder how other women keep their spouse or children or the home they love or a job they enjoy from becoming an idol. I'd love to hear from them.