I really like this phrase. If this phrase was a girl I met in college I would ask her out after chapel, take her to Outback for a blooming onion and reasonably-priced steak dinner, and then go to a movie. Which in college was considered a 5-star date.
But in all seriousness, this is probably my favorite Christian phrase. Here’s an example of how to use it: “Mark is going through some tough times right now, we really need to love on him.”
See how tender and compassionate that sounds? It’s lovely, but it can be a bit confusing. In the last decade, several other similar phrases have popped up. So, as a public service, I thought I would point out the difference between the “on phrases.”
1. Eat on
Sometimes before a meal, someone will say, “I’m going to get my eat on.” This usually means you are going to a Chinese buffet, often titled something like “Super Buffet.” Remember not to waste your time on things like salad and bread. Skip those altogether and focused on anything fried.
2. Drink on
Sometimes before a big boozefest, someone will say, “I’m going to get my drink on tonight.” This event usually involves malt liquor and making out with someone you would not usually make out with. I sincerely recommend that you do not in fact “get your drink on.” SCL does not support bad making out in any situation.
3. Freak on
Sometimes before going dancing, someone will say, “I’m going to get my freak on tonight at the club.” Nelly Furtado and Missy Elliot did a song called “Get ya freak on” so maybe the phrase picked up steam there. I think if more Christian marriages employed this phrase we’d have less divorce. Just a theory.
I could write and write and write, but my friend is going through some tough times and I need to go love on him. (See how awesome that phrase is?)
(Thanks for the idea Andy)
Life doesn’t ask permission. Sickness doesn’t knock first before it comes into your life. It just shows up on your doorstep and one day you fall down in a field. And the next day you’re in a bed without the energy to sit up and they send for your son Dalton in the big city. And he’s racing home, reaching home as fast as he can on a horse that carries him through rivers and woods and heartaches and doubts about making it in time. But he does. And for weeks he sits right there, never leaving your side. His worry growing. His beard growing. His love of the widow Johnson growing with each meal she brought to the room where sickness had come to rest.