How Well Do You Love?

How Well Do You Love?

At the heart of the Christian life is a call—not to power, not to prestige, not even to peace—but to love. Not a soft or sentimental kind of love, but a steady, durable kind. The kind of love that shows up. That bends but doesn’t break. The kind that forgives when it hurts and keeps hoping when the world says not to.

This love isn’t extra credit. It’s the heart of the matter. It’s how the world knows we belong to Christ. Not by the size of our church or the strength of our opinions, but by the depth of our love—for one another, for strangers, even for those who wound us.

We’re not meant to go through life alone. From the very beginning, God created us for each other—for support, for kindness, for shared burdens and shared joy. Yes, winter comes for all of us in time. But we’re not sent into the cold by ourselves. In the promise of God and in the presence of each other, we find warmth—and we find hope.

If you were to ask ten people on the street for a rule to live by, you’d probably get ten different answers. And that’s fine—we all carry our own stories and instincts. But as Christians, we believe in a higher rule, one that doesn’t shift with the times or bend to the crowd.

Jesus said the kingdom of God is like a treasure hidden in a field—not because it’s out of reach, but because its value is often overlooked. And the treasure we’ve been given, the guiding truth that steadies us, is this: God’s rule is love.

But knowing that love matters isn’t enough. We must live it—daily, deliberately, creatively. Some days that means big gestures; most days it means small ones. A kind word. A second chance. A listening ear. Love doesn’t need to be loud to be real.

Yes, the news and the noise around us can make it seem like the world is spinning out of control. Anger and division are louder than ever. But if you look more closely, you’ll find another story unfolding quietly in the background. Every day, in homes and hospitals and grocery lines and school parking lots, love is still showing up.

There’s a story I love about a preacher who was asked what he would do if someone rudely cut him off in traffic. His reply? “Turn the other fender.” It was said with a smile, but it speaks to something serious. The Christian response isn’t just to absorb the hurt, but to imagine a better way forward.

That’s our calling—to carry the love of Christ into every part of life. Not to argue others into faith or pressure them into agreement, but to let love speak for itself. Real evangelism isn’t about clever words or clever strategies. It’s about how we treat people. How we forgive. How we serve. How we love.

There’s a line from the old musical South Pacific, where a military governor says, “I’m going to teach these natives democracy if I have to kill every last one of them.” The line is satire, of course, but it hits a nerve. If we lose love, even our best intentions fall apart.

“By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (Jn. 13:35).

“God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ, has given us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Co. 5:18).

This is what it means to walk in the footsteps of Christ—not simply to believe in Him, but to reflect His love in the way we live. We’re known not by our words or our titles, but by our ability to love—especially when loving gets difficult.

Think for a moment of an ideal family. Everything’s going well. No tension, no short tempers, no grudges. In that kind of setting, loving each other doesn’t take much imagination. It might not even take much effort.

But life isn’t usually that simple. Most of us know what it feels like when things go wrong—when there’s distance, misunderstanding, hurt feelings, or long silences. That’s when love becomes real. That’s when love requires courage and creativity.

Jesus makes this clear in the “Sermon on the Plain,” found in Luke, which parallels Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount: “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?” The heart of Christian love is not just loving those who treat us well but reaching out when there’s been a break—when reconciliation is needed.

And that’s exactly the word we hear again and again in Scripture: Reconciliation. That’s the work of faith. That’s the lifestyle of the Christian. To be a bridge where others have built walls. To be a healer where there’s been harm.

There’s an old German story that captures something of this spirit. A man had been falsely accused of theft and became the target of town gossip. Wherever he went, he was followed—especially by the children of those who had been whispering behind his back. They chased him through the streets, shouting names, calling him a thief, throwing the words they’d heard at home.

For a time, the man said nothing. He endured the cruelty in silence. But one day, he decided to try something new.

He turned to the children and made a proposal: “You follow me around every day shouting insults, but you don’t get paid for it. That doesn’t seem fair. So, starting tomorrow, I’ll give each of you a penny every time you insult me.”

And so, they did—day after day, hurling insults and collecting pennies. It became a routine. Until one day, the man stopped handing out coins. The children, suddenly unpaid, lost interest. And just like that, the shouting stopped.

He hadn’t fought them. He hadn’t punished them. He changed the story—not with power, but with patience and imagination.

That’s the power of creative love. It doesn’t always come with fanfare. It rarely makes headlines. But it changes things. It softens what is hard. It surprises what is stuck. It creates a path where none seemed possible.

This is the ministry of reconciliation that Paul speaks of. It’s the calling we’ve been given. Not just to love when it’s easy—but to love when it’s hard. To love when we don’t feel like it. To love when the world says we shouldn’t.

The love of Jesus is not loud or pushy. It doesn’t demand attention. But it flows like a quiet river—steady, strong, and deep. It flows into our families, into our neighborhoods, into our lives. And when we live by that love, something eternal breaks through into the everyday.

To follow Jesus is to offer that love—through our words, our patience, our choices, our willingness to forgive. Not with pride or performance, but with sincerity and trust. In doing so, we carry His name not just in our hearts, but in our actions.

That is how the world will know who we are. That is how they will know whose we are.

Not by our arguments, or by how right we think we are—but by how well we love.