There Is No Hate Like Christian Love
There’s a phrase that’s been rolling around in
my mind for a while now: “There is no hate like Christian love.”
At first, when my daughter said those words to
me, I’ll admit it stopped me in my tracks. I wasn’t offended at her — not
really — but something in me stirred. I felt that instinctive, almost defensive
pulse rise up in my spirit, the one that wants to correct, to explain, to show
why she’s wrong and I’m right. But in that moment, the Holy Spirit gently
pressed pause on my heart and said, “Listen first, Craig. Don’t rush to fix
what I need you to feel.”
That conversation with my daughter wasn’t
about winning a debate or defending the faith; it was about realizing how often
we as believers forget what the heart of Christ actually looks like in motion.
We speak about love, grace, acceptance, and diversity of thought — but when
we’re truly tested by someone who sees differently than we do, our reactions
often reveal how much work we still have to do.
It was a humbling moment — not because she was
right about Christian hate, but because she saw something in how we, as
the body of Christ, sometimes act that I could no longer deny. Her words became
a mirror. And sometimes the hardest thing to do is look in the mirror when we
know there’s truth behind the reflection.
When Love
Becomes Selective
As I reflected on our conversation later that
night, I realized how easily Christian love can become conditional
love.
We say “all are welcome,” but often there’s an
invisible asterisk attached: as long as you agree with our interpretation,
fit our moral template, and share our worldview. The modern church, like
the culture around it, has mastered the art of selective acceptance.
It reminds me of how Jesus was treated by the
religious leaders of His day. The Pharisees, who claimed to be the keepers of
God’s truth, couldn’t stand the radical love He embodied. Jesus loved beyond
their lines, healed beyond their rules, and forgave beyond their comfort zones.
In doing so, He exposed the hypocrisy of hearts that wanted to look holy more
than they wanted to be holy.
In Matthew 23:27-28 (NIV), Jesus said:
“Woe to you, teachers of the law and
Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful
on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and
everything unclean. In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as
righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.”
That’s a hard truth — especially when you
realize He wasn’t speaking to the sinners on the streets, but to the religious
insiders.
And maybe that’s where the phrase “there is no
hate like Christian love” quietly finds its home. Because when the people
called to love unconditionally start deciding who’s worthy of that love, we no
longer reflect the cross — we reflect the crowd that shouted “Crucify Him!”
When My
Daughter Spoke Truth Without Knowing It
My daughter isn’t a believer right now, at
least not in the way we would define it. But that doesn’t mean she’s far from
God — it just means she’s on her journey.
When she said, “There is no hate like
Christian love,” it wasn’t meant as mockery. It was an observation. She had
seen people claim the name of Christ and yet treat others as though their
differences disqualified them from compassion.
At first, I wanted to tell her, “That’s not
true, honey. Christianity is about love!” But as soon as that thought
formed, I realized — she wasn’t wrong about what she’s witnessed. What she’s
seen in some Christians — maybe even in me at times — is that we say we love,
but only when it’s convenient, when it fits the narrative, when it doesn’t cost
us too much pride.
So instead of arguing, I chose to listen. I
told her, “Thank you for sharing that. Can I write about it someday?” And she
smiled and said yes.
In that small exchange, I felt the Spirit
whisper: “This is what meeting people where they are looks like.”
Because real love — Christ-like love — doesn’t
start with correction. It starts with connection.
Old
Testament Reflections — When God Met People Where They Were
When we look back through Scripture, God has
always met His people in the mess of their humanity.
Take Jonah, for example. God called him
to go to Nineveh — a city full of sin, arrogance, and violence — and tell them
to repent. But Jonah didn’t want to go. He didn’t think they deserved God’s
mercy. So he ran in the opposite direction.
When God finally brought him back (through the
belly of a fish, of course), Jonah preached reluctantly, and the people
repented. Yet instead of rejoicing that an entire city turned back to God,
Jonah became angry.
He said to the Lord, in Jonah 4:2 (NIV):
“Isn’t this what I said, Lord, when I was
still at home? That is what I tried to forestall by fleeing to Tarshish. I knew
that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in
love, a God who relents from sending calamity.”
Jonah didn’t hate Nineveh because he was evil
— he hated them because he couldn’t understand God’s mercy being that wide.
And don’t we do the same sometimes? We love
the idea of grace when it covers us, but struggle with it when it covers others
we disagree with.
Another example is Moses and the
Israelites. Over and over, they rebelled, complained, and worshiped idols, yet
God still provided manna, protection, and leadership. His love wasn’t based on
performance; it was rooted in His covenant. That’s the kind of love Jesus later
embodied — one that endures even when rejected.
New
Testament Examples — Jesus and the Outcasts
If we want to know what real love looks like,
we only need to look at how Jesus treated people whom others avoided.
He spoke to the Samaritan woman at the well
(John 4), even though cultural rules forbade it. He dined with tax collectors
like Matthew and Zacchaeus (Luke 5:27-32; Luke 19:1-10), even though they were
considered traitors. He touched lepers when everyone else crossed the street.
Everywhere He went, Jesus broke man-made
barriers in the name of divine love.
And yet, who were the ones most offended by
His actions? The religious elite. Those who thought they already knew God best
were often the ones least able to recognize Him standing right in front of
them.
That’s the same tension we face today. When we
claim to love like Christ but refuse to step outside the comfort zones of our
own convictions, our “love” begins to look more like judgment dressed in
Scripture.
In John 13:34-35 (NIV), Jesus gave a
new command:
“A new command I give you: Love one another.
As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know
that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
Notice what He didn’t say. He didn’t say, “They
will know you are my disciples if you win every theological debate.” He
didn’t say, “They will know you are mine if your doctrine is perfect.”
He said they will know by how we love.
That’s it.
When
Acceptance Isn’t Agreement
This is where the modern tension lies. We live
in a world that preaches tolerance but practices conditional acceptance. And
sadly, the Church sometimes mirrors that same inconsistency.
We say, “Come as you are,” but secretly mean,
“Come as you are — just don’t stay that way too long or make us uncomfortable.”
But love doesn’t require agreement to be
genuine. Jesus never compromised truth, but He also never weaponized it. His
truth was always wrapped in compassion.
Think about the woman caught in adultery in John
8:3-11. The crowd wanted to stone her, but Jesus stooped down, wrote in the
sand, and said, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a
stone.” One by one, they walked away.
When it was just Him and her, He said, “Then
neither do I condemn you… Go now and leave your life of sin.”
That is truth wrapped in love. Mercy before
message.
Why Her
Words Hurt — and Healed
When my daughter said her piece, it hurt — not
because she was attacking my faith, but because she was pointing out the blind
spot in how it’s sometimes represented.
It forced me to ask myself:
- Have I
ever made someone feel small while trying to prove my faith was big?
- Have I
ever chosen to be right instead of being relational?
- Have I
ever spoken about grace but withheld it when it was most needed?
If I’m honest, yes.
And yet, that honesty became a healing force.
Because in recognizing my own imperfection, I was reminded why I need Jesus
daily. Not as a concept, but as my living source of humility, compassion, and
strength.
The
Challenge of the Modern Church
We are living in an age where division has
become entertainment. People no longer discuss to understand — they debate to
win.
And somewhere along the line, Christians got
pulled into that same cultural current. We’ve made social media our pulpit and
forgotten that shouting online rarely changes hearts.
But Jesus didn’t shout His message — He lived
it.
He led by washing feet. He preached by
forgiving enemies. He served by carrying a cross.
That’s the kind of leadership we’re called to
reflect. But to do so, we have to let go of the need to always have the last
word.
As Proverbs 15:1 (NIV) reminds us:
“A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh
word stirs up anger.”
The Church doesn’t need louder voices — it
needs softer hearts.
Three Ways
to Lead More Like Christ
So how do we lead like Jesus when the world —
and even our own circles — are divided? How do we reflect true Christian love
that doesn’t resemble hate in disguise?
1. Lead with Compassion, Not Comparison
When Jesus saw people, He didn’t measure them
by how close or far they were from perfection. He looked at their potential
through grace.
In Matthew 9:36 (NIV) it says:
“When He saw the crowds, He had compassion on
them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.”
To lead with compassion means seeing others
through the eyes of need, not judgment. It’s choosing to listen before
speaking, to understand before responding.
When someone believes differently than you,
pause and remember: God is still working in their story, just like He’s working
in yours.
2. Lead with Truth Wrapped in Grace
Jesus never diluted truth — but He always
delivered it with love.
John 1:14 (NIV) says:
“The Word became flesh and made His dwelling
among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came
from the Father, full of grace and truth.”
Grace and truth are meant to coexist. Truth
without grace crushes; grace without truth deceives. When both are held
together, they heal.
Leading with truth wrapped in grace means
standing firm in conviction while staying soft in delivery.
3. Lead with Presence, Not Performance
One of the most overlooked aspects of Jesus’
ministry is His presence. He didn’t rush through people’s pain — He sat in it
with them.
When Lazarus died, Jesus wept (John
11:35). He could have skipped straight to the miracle, but He paused to mourn
first. That’s presence.
Leading like Christ means valuing people over
productivity. It means showing up even when there’s no spotlight, no applause,
no visible reward — simply because love shows up.
Closing
Reflection — A Love That Looks Like Jesus
As I think back on that conversation with my
daughter, I’m actually thankful for it. Because sometimes the Holy Spirit
speaks truth through unexpected voices.
Her phrase — “There is no hate like
Christian love” — still echoes, but now it serves as a reminder, not a
rebuke. A reminder that our calling as believers is to live in such a way that
those words no longer feel true.
The goal isn’t to be perfect; it’s to be
present. The goal isn’t to win arguments; it’s to win hearts. The goal isn’t to
defend Christianity; it’s to reflect Christ.
And that begins one conversation, one act of
grace, one humble moment at a time.
Because when we love like Jesus — without
agenda, without pride, without conditions — the world can no longer say there’s
no hate like Christian love.
They’ll have to admit: there’s no love like
Christ’s love.
Final
Prayer
Lord, help us to love like You did — wide,
deep, and without conditions.
Help us to meet people where they are, not where we wish they’d be.
Give us courage to lead with compassion, wisdom to speak truth with grace,
and the humility to sit in silence when our presence says more than our words.
May Your Church be known not for its walls,
but for its warmth.
Not for its judgment, but for its joy.
Not for its noise, but for its nearness.
And may those who doubt or drift — like my
daughter and so many others —
find in our imperfect love a glimpse of You.
In Jesus’ Name,
Amen.
May our prayer be that all will testify that there is no Love like Jesus's Love.
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