When Love Is Not Love

We live in an age that speaks endlessly of love—yet has forgotten what love is. The word is everywhere: on billboards, in songs, in political slogans, in hashtags. "Love is love," they say. "Love wins." "All you need is love."

But what kind of love? A love that never corrects? A love that never confronts? A love that affirms every desire, endorses every identity, and celebrates every choice—no matter how destructive?

This is not love. It is sentiment. It is emotional indulgence dressed in the language of compassion. It is the modern world's most dangerous counterfeit—a love that costs nothing, demands nothing, and transforms nothing.

True love—the love of God—is not a feeling. It is a fire. It is not tolerance. It is transformation. And it will not leave you as it found you.

The Bible does not define love as acceptance. It defines love as agapē—a covenant commitment to the highest good of another, even at great cost to oneself.

This is the love that sent Jesus to the cross. Not because God approved of our sin, but because He refused to leave us in it. His love did not say, "You're fine as you are." His love said, "I will die so you can be made new."

"If you love me, you will keep my commandments." — John 14:15

Notice the order: love first, then obedience. But notice also the inseparability: true love for God produces obedience. Love is not emotional indulgence; it is moral alignment. It is the glad surrender of the will to the One who knows us better than we know ourselves.

God's love is not permissive. It is purposeful. It does not coddle; it cultivates. It does not flatter; it refines. And it will not rest until we are conformed to the image of His Son.

The counterfeit love of our age is easy to spot: it never challenges, never corrects, never calls to repentance. It is the love of the Pharisees in reverse—not law without love, but love without law.

Consider the woman caught in adultery (John 8). The religious leaders wanted to stone her. The crowd wanted to condemn her. But Jesus? He did neither. He said, "Neither do I condemn you." But He did not stop there. He added, "Go, and from now on sin no more."

His mercy was real. His compassion was genuine. But His love did not leave her in bondage. It set her free—not by affirming her sin, but by calling her out of it.

The modern church has forgotten the second half of that sentence. We have embraced the "no condemnation" but abandoned the "sin no more." We have chosen sentiment over sanctification. And in doing so, we have ceased to love at all.

"For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions." — 2 Timothy 4:3

We are living in that time. The modern gospel is a gospel of affirmation, not transformation. It tells people what they want to hear, not what they need to hear. And it calls this "love."

True love is not soft. It is fierce. It is the love of a father who disciplines his son (Hebrews 12:6). It is the love of a surgeon who cuts to heal. It is the love of a refiner who burns away the dross to reveal the gold.

This is why Jesus could weep over Jerusalem and still pronounce judgment upon it. This is why He could love Peter and still rebuke him: "Get behind me, Satan!" (Matthew 16:23). His tears and His truth were not opposites—they were inseparable.

"Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it." — Song of Solomon 8:7

Covenant love is relentless. It pursues. It persists. It will not let go. But it also will not compromise. It loves you too much to leave you unchanged.

The love of God is a consuming fire (Hebrews 12:29). Not because it destroys, but because it purifies. It burns away everything that is not of Him—every false identity, every destructive pattern, every cherished sin. And what remains is gold.

What happens when the church embraces counterfeit love? What happens when we trade truth for tolerance, holiness for inclusivity, transformation for affirmation?

We lose the power to save. We become chaplains to the culture, not prophets to the nations. We offer comfort without conviction, acceptance without accountability, and in doing so, we condemn people to remain in bondage.

"For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive... having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power." — 2 Timothy 3:2-5

This is the church of our age: a form of godliness without power. We speak of love but have no authority to deliver. We preach grace but have no capacity to transform. We affirm identities but cannot impart new life.

And the world sees through it. They know that a love which costs nothing is worth nothing. They know that a gospel which demands nothing delivers nothing. And they walk away—not because we were too harsh, but because we were too hollow.

So what does true love look like? How do we love as God loves—with both truth and mercy, both grace and holiness?

We start by remembering that love is not a feeling. It is a commitment. It is the decision to pursue the highest good of another, even when it is costly, even when it is uncomfortable, even when it is rejected.

This is the love that changes lives. This is the love that sets captives free. This is the love that the world is desperate for—even if they don't know it yet.

The church must recover the full counsel of God's love. We must stop choosing between truth and mercy, between holiness and compassion. We must embrace both—because God does.

This will not make us popular. The world will call us hateful when we speak truth. The culture will call us judgmental when we call sin what it is. Even some within the church will accuse us of being unloving.

But we must not waver. We must love as Jesus loved—with tears and with truth, with compassion and with conviction. We must be willing to be misunderstood, maligned, and rejected—because that is what love costs.

"Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." — 1 Corinthians 13:6-7

Notice: love rejoices with the truth. Not in spite of the truth. Not apart from the truth. With the truth. Because truth and love are not enemies. They are allies. They are inseparable. And when we divorce them, we lose both.

The love of God is not tame. It is not safe. It is not sentimental. It is a consuming fire that will not rest until we are holy as He is holy, pure as He is pure, whole as He is whole.

This is the love the church must recover. Not the hollow tolerance of the age, but the holy fire of the Kingdom. Not the love that says, "You're fine as you are," but the love that says, "You are loved more than you can imagine—but loved too much to remain unchanged."

The world does not need more sentiment. It needs transformation. It does not need affirmation. It needs salvation. And it will not find it in a church that has traded the fire of God's love for the ashes of cultural approval.

So let us love as God loves. Let us speak truth in love. Let us extend mercy without compromise. Let us call people to freedom, to holiness, to new life in Christ.

And let us trust that the love which sent Jesus to the cross is powerful enough to transform every heart that receives it.