Love Wins

I don’t usually spend much time putting gas in my car. It’s an errand I squeeze in between other things, and often something I leave to the very last minute, much to the dismay of my dad. And since I’m generally rushing through the task, I never pay much attention to it, either.

But one day, as I was zoning out and waiting for the telltale “click” of the gas pump telling me I could get on with my day, a man approached me. He was at least twenty years older than me, and looked a bit rough around the edges, but he genuinely seemed more afraid of me than I might have been of him.

“Excuse me,” he asked, stopping a few feet away with his hands in his pockets. “What does that mean?”

“What?” I had no idea what he was talking about.

“Your shirt.” He pointed.

I glanced down and realized that I was wearing my “LOVE WINS” shirt. A few years earlier, I’d decided to pare down my wardrobe and maintain a small collection of shirts that I enjoyed or found meaningful. I liked being able to grab something every morning that represented something I believed in, or that reflected something true about me.

This one read “LOVE WINS” in bold, scribbly type. No one had ever asked me about its slogan before, though some of my more aggressively ideological shirts did tend to elicit comments.

“Love wins,” I read aloud, unsure how else to answer his question.

He shifted on his feet a bit. “Do you really believe that?”

Well, yes! He had no way of knowing this, but I’ve never been one to wear or otherwise advertise anything I didn’t wholeheartedly agree with.

“Yes,” I said, smiling in a way I hoped was friendly and reassuring.

He then told me a little bit about his family, which was full of people who were decidedly not loving toward him or each other, but who seemed to be “winning.” I didn’t even know his name, but I could tell that he was hurting deeply, and definitely didn’t see the world as a place where the power of love was guaranteed any kind of victory.

I didn’t really know what to say. How do you tell someone who’s seen so much pain that you believe the universe ultimately tends toward goodness and love? I did my best, explaining that it didn’t mean that no one would ever suffer, or that people who did hateful things would always see immediate justice. Rather, I believe that love will always have the final say in the long run - that no attempt to hurt or hate it out of existence will ever succeed.

I saw hope spark in his eyes as I rambled through the philosophical underpinnings of the t-shirt I’d just happened to wear that day. My gas tank had long since been filled, but I was genuinely enjoying the conversation.

He said that no one had ever put it that way for him before. The family members who had caused him so much grief, he concluded, could be left in the past. He didn’t need to fight to make sure they stopped behaving so poorly, nor did he have to change their behavior in order for him to move on and heal. If love would win, he could look forward, trusting in his own capacity for love rather than staying entangled with folks on the losing side.

“I can believe that, even if others don’t,” he said, smiling for the first time since he’d walked up to me.

“Yeah,” I said, returning his smile even as I squinted into the bright sun. “At least, I do.”

He thanked me, said goodbye, and headed back to his car.

I thought that would be the end of things - one short encounter at a sun-baked gas station in Arizona. We didn’t exchange phone numbers, and to this day I still don’t know the man’s name. There’s no tidy, cinematic ending to this story, just two strangers trying to figure something out together for a few moments.

But I still have that shirt, and to this day, every time I pull it out of the drawer, I think of that man at the gas station. I remember the earnestness in his voice as he asked me, “do you really believe that?” and pressed me to explain what it meant.

I’m grateful that he had the courage to come up and ask me about it and to share the experiences in his life that made it hard for him to understand such a statement. Speaking with him jolted me a little bit deeper into my own consciousness that day by forcing me to really articulate what I believed and stand for that truth with my words and behavior.

I still wear only shirts that mean something to me, and some of them really put it all out there. When I put one on, I have to ask myself: am I ready and willing to live this out today? If someone saw me wearing this shirt, would I be able to put my money where my sartorial mouth is? Some days, I’ll be honest, I skip over a more demanding shirt for one with a more lighthearted slogan, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to positively represent something like If you are neutral in situations of oppression, you have chosen the side of the oppressor or Teach Peace! that day.

By asking me a few simple questions while I was getting gas one day, a stranger gave me an incredible gift. He reminded me that the things I believe aren’t just cute slogans, but the bedrock for my choices and who I am. Today, I’m more purposeful and intentional because of his decision to reach out to a stranger. Ultimately, I think our small connection helps prove the point: Love Wins.