There are some things we recognize as love without anybody having to explain them to us. It’s the mother who gets up for the third time in the middle of the night because her child is sick. It’s the friend who remembers something you mentioned weeks ago and calls to ask how it turned out. It’s someone pulling a blanket over you after you’ve fallen asleep on the couch, making room when you need somewhere to land, listening when they’ve heard the story several times already, or simply noticing that you’re not quite yourself today. Love has a warmth to it. It makes us feel seen, safe, wanted, and cared for.
That’s why it can be difficult to imagine that something we sincerely call love could ever lead us in the wrong direction. Jesus Himself said that the greatest commandments are to love God with all our heart, soul, and mind and to love our neighbor as ourselves (Matthew 22:37-39). Scripture goes even further and tells us plainly that “God is love” (1 John 4:8). So it seems reasonable to ask: If I genuinely love someone, how could that possibly be wrong?
That sounds like an easy question until you’ve lived long enough to discover that love requires more from us than pulling up a blanket or bringing someone soup. Sometimes love has to say no. Sometimes it has to let someone experience consequences we desperately want to spare them from. Sometimes it has to speak an uncomfortable truth when silence would be easier. There are even times when love must refuse to give someone what they want because giving it would ultimately do more harm than good.
Love needs a compass, and God has not left us wondering which direction it should point.
Jesus said, “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15). He did not separate love from obedience. He joined them. And there’s something comforting in knowing that the One who guides us in love is the very One Scripture tells us “is love.” His commandments were never meant to drain love of its warmth or tenderness. They give love a safe place to flourish, protecting it from becoming selfishness, indulgence, manipulation, lust, possessiveness, or any number of other things that can quietly take on the appearance of love without reflecting the heart of God.
We can be remarkably sincere and still be sincerely wrong. A parent may love a child so much that she continually rescues him from the consequences of his choices. She cannot bear to see him struggle, so she steps in again and again. Yet in protecting him from every consequence, she may also be protecting him from learning responsibility. A friend may see someone heading toward a destructive decision and remain silent because she doesn’t want to hurt her. But sometimes keeping quiet is easier for the person who knows the truth than it is helpful to the person who needs to hear it.
Peter gives us a striking example. When Jesus began telling His disciples that He would suffer and be killed, Peter couldn’t bear the thought. He took Jesus aside and protested. I can understand Peter’s reaction. He loved Jesus. He didn’t want Him to suffer, and everything within him wanted to prevent it.
Yet Jesus rebuked him because Peter was seeing the situation from a human perspective without yet understanding the purpose of God. His concern was genuine, but he couldn’t see what God was doing. His feelings were real; his conclusion was wrong. We can sincerely love someone and still need God to teach us how to love that person rightly.
Most of us know the familiar words of 1 Corinthians 13 about charity suffering long and being kind, but tucked among them is this: love “rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth” (1 Corinthians 13:6).
Love and truth were never meant to be enemies. Yet we often behave as though we must choose between them—as though we can either be loving or stand for truth, either show compassion or remain faithful to Scripture. Jesus never made that choice. He could sit beside broken people without making them feel worthless, yet He never had to rename sin in order to make sinners feel loved. His tenderness never weakened truth, and His truth never diminished His tenderness.
That’s the kind of love I want to understand better because God’s love sees farther than our feelings do. Our immediate instinct often says, “I don’t want you to hurt.” God’s love sees beyond the moment and says, “I want what is truly good for you.” Often those desires lead to the same place, but not always. There are moments when loving someone means enduring their disappointment rather than helping them continue hurting themselves. It may mean establishing a boundary, having a difficult conversation, refusing to participate in something we know is wrong, or standing quietly with Scripture when agreement would certainly be easier.
Picture a river flowing between its banks, the water moving steadily along the course laid out before it. Those banks do not diminish the river or keep it from being what it was meant to be. They give it direction, allowing the water to run deep and strong instead of spilling out in every direction. In much the same way, God’s truth gives love its banks. His Word does not make love less tender, less compassionate, or less beautiful. It allows love to run deep without losing its way.
And perhaps that is what I want most for the people I love. I want them to feel loved by me, certainly, but even more than that, I want the way I love them to reflect something of the heart of God. Ultimately, loving someone is not about keeping them close to me or making sure they are always happy with me. It is wanting for them what God wants for them and, through the way I love them, always pointing them closer to Him.
If this Fireside Chat warmed your spirit and sparked fresh resolve to live what you believe, fan that flame with Scripture—“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly” (Colossians 3:16). Pull a little closer to the Light, and carry it into the week ahead.
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