How can one live a life worthy of holiness? This is a question that often resonates deeply within me.

If we believe that the only way to live the holiest life is to abandon everything like the desert fathers of old and spend our days in the wilderness in meditation and prayer, then no one could ever achieve holiness in the reality of daily life. Yet I find myself thinking that perhaps, even today, by sincerely loving those closest to us, those far from us, and even those we meet by chance, we can take at least one small step toward a holy life.

A few years ago, before my young granddaughter learned to speak, I would tell her countless times, “Grandma loves you.” But because she lived far away and we rarely had the chance to meet, she only felt awkward and distant. After much thought, I used my fingers to teach her in sign language, “I love you.” With her tiny little fingers, she clumsily imitated the gesture and began a loving exchange with me. From then on, even when she heard only my voice over the phone from far away, she would raise three fingers, connecting herself to her memories of her grandmother.

There is hardly anything more delightful than saying “I love you” to family, relatives, or close friends—or hearing them say, “I love you.” No matter how often you hear it, it never becomes tiresome or irritating. Even when standing at the edge of despair in life, there are moments when recalling the faces of those who love me unceasingly, and those whom I love, allows me to grasp the thread of comfort and hope once again.

Love is like a warm spring breeze brushing across frozen ground, helping us endure tears and suffering, and allowing buds of hope and expectation to sprout. When you sincerely say to someone, “I love you,” it carries an unspoken promise—not only to share joyful times together, but also to remain with them when they struggle, when they are sick, when they are sad, and even when they fail. And beneath that, at a deeper level, lies another meaning: When I reach the limits of my humanity and can no longer love you on my own strength, I will rely on God’s love to trust you, believe in you, and remain responsible for you until the end.

February is the month of love. The red heart-shaped chocolates and roses displayed in shops everywhere tell us it is a time to confess love to someone. Yet for us Christians, Ash Wednesday (2/17) marks the beginning of the spiritual pilgrimage of Lent. Through Christ’s coming, suffering, death, and resurrection, it is a time to meditate deeply on God’s love and to remember that I, who will one day return to dust, was created on this earth for the sake of a noble love.

This love is not the sweet love of chocolates or the fleeting love that withers like flowers. It is a love with responsibility and passion, with tears and pain. It is a love that existed before I was born and will remain unchanged even after I die—an eternal, unchanging love.

Today again, I ask myself, “Am I living a life worthy of holiness?” and reflect on how much of my heart I have surrendered for God to possess. For unless He takes hold of me, I ultimately cannot truly love anyone.

— Yoon Wan-hee, Faith Column, February 10, 2010