Oct 7, 2025
3 min read
What if the most powerful way we could reflect Jesus wasn’t through what we know about Him—but through how we love the people around us?
In Luke 10, a lawyer asked Jesus the question most of us have probably wrestled with in one way or another: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus turns the question back on him: “What is written in the law?” The man answers, quoting Scripture perfectly—love God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.
Jesus nods. “You’ve answered correctly. Do this, and you will live.”
It’s interesting—this man already knew what the law said. But instead of resting in the truth he just recited, he immediately asks another question: “And who is my neighbor?”
You can almost hear the tension behind his words. Do I really have to love everyone? How far does this love go?
25 On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
26 “What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”
27 He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.”
28 “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”
29 But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?
Luke 10:25-29
And so, Jesus tells the story we know so well—the parable of the Good Samaritan. A man is beaten, robbed, and left for dead on a dangerous road. A priest passes by. Then a Levite. Both were religious men who likely had their reasons—too busy, too cautious, too focused on their own spiritual duties. But then, a Samaritan—a cultural outsider—sees the man and stops. He bandages his wounds, lifts him onto his animal, and takes him to safety.
That’s what love looks like in motion. Compassion that interrupts. Mercy that costs something.
Sometimes, like the lawyer, we justify ourselves. We find ways to excuse our lack of love—our busyness, our differences, our fear of getting involved. But self-justification always limits compassion. Pride builds walls where grace is meant to flow.
Jesus calls us to something better. He calls us to love with action. To see pain and move toward it. To become people who pour out the oil and the wine—symbols of His Spirit and His blood—to those who are wounded and weary.
You don’t need a ministry title or a special campaign to love your neighbor. You just need open eyes and a willing heart. Because the church isn’t a building; it’s people. And when those people begin to love like Jesus loves, cities change. Homes heal. The Gospel becomes visible. So ask yourself both questions below,
So here’s the challenge:
Let’s be a church that doesn’t just quote the commandment to love, but lives it.
