Love Like Jesus

Love. Is any topic more talked of in Christianity?

Maybe sin. Maybe the cross. Maybe Jesus himself.

But in the end, they all come down to love.

So what can I say about love that hasn’t already been said? Probably nothing, but like a jewel with many facets, every new angle magnifies its beauty.

The Bible uses an unlikely phrase to describe Christian character: the fruit of the Spirit. Top of the list? Love.

The metaphor of bearing fruit takes us back to Jesus’s words in John 15. He’s the vine. We’re the branches. Only branches attached to the vine bear fruit. No doubt Paul had this in mind when, in writing to the Galatians, he contrasted un-sanctified living with Christ-likeness. And the hallmark of sanctification, of Christianity itself, is Jesus’s kind of love.

For Jesus, love isn’t optional or even necessarily pleasurable. He doesn’t ask us to work up some kind thoughts or do some good deeds. He commands love. And the standard he commands is that we love the way he loved. And to make his point, he said it twice—

"A new commandment I give to you: that you love one another. As I have loved you, you also love one another.” (Jn 13:34)

"This is My commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” (Jn 15:12)

An insane kind of love. Like nothing the world had seen until he waltzed onto its stage. Think of it. He thought he could order us to feel certain ways and to act on that feeling. What an idea!

Sometimes I think I’d have enjoyed being one of his pack. I mean, Jesus was … stimulating. He always had some miracle going. He was an out-of-the-box thinker, especially where religion was concerned. He drove out demons, and calmed storms, and walked on water, for goodness’ sake! How exciting is that? But Jesus was also fun and affectionate, the kind of guy even little kids liked to be around.

On the other hand, I’m pretty sure he’d have stretched my comfort zone a bit. Seating four or five thousand for dinner at a time. Getting in the face of the rulers. Traipsing through unclean Samaria. Touching lepers. Hanging with hookers and partying with dregs. Do you realize that at every funeral Jesus attended, he brought the corpse back to life? Wow.

I can see why Peter recognized Jesus as the Christ.

And I can see why Peter denied him outside the high priest’s house.

See that night through Peter’s eyes. Imagine the privilege of being invited to go further into the garden to pray with the Master. And the disgrace of falling asleep—three times. Into the shame-filled silence of the late night garden comes a mob with clubs and swords. To arrest Jesus, the best man you’ve ever known.

How could Judas betray Jesus like this? Jesus had only ever treated Judas with fairness and kindness. The same way he treated everybody. Do good to others. Live in peace. Speak the truth. Trust God. Trust Jesus. Love your neighbor. Love your enemies. Love, love, love.

And, as Judas proved, it just didn’t work.

He could have told Jesus how it would end. The world doesn’t run on love, Jesus. It runs on power and self. But not love. Love that puts others first is weak. In the end, what does it get you except betrayed and dead?

Jesus appeared more than once after rising from the dead, still talking about love. As if loving him and shepherding his sheep, tending his lambs, was going to change the world.

The only day sadder than Good Friday was the day Jesus disappeared into the clouds for the last time. He’d given them their mission, to teach others to keep his command. (There was that thing about love again.) And he’d given them a promise. They just had to wait for the gift from his Father.

Not many days later, it happened. The gift arrived. Filled the place with wind and fire. Set them all uttering divine truth in languages they’d never learned. Incredibly, Peter was able to deliver one of the most finely crafted sermons of all time, in which he articulated the gospel message of salvation in a way that’s yet to be improved on.

If I know Peter, though, the most amazing part wasn’t that he could make fine speeches and persuade others to believe. No, the real miracle was the hope he now possessed. This gift from the Father was power. Power to love. To love like Jesus loved. The love of God had been poured out in their hearts that day.

And hope does not disappoint us. In the 2000 years since Pentecost, that kind of love has changed the world. Christ’s eternal kingdom runs on that kind of love.