The Beautiful Mess of Loving Christ's Church

There's a powerful allegory in John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress where the protagonist, Christian, encounters a hill called Difficulty. At its base, two paths curve around it—the easy routes. But the narrow way to the Celestial City goes straight up. Christian chooses the steep climb, declaring, "The hill, though high, I choose to ascend. The difficulty will not offend me, for I perceive the way to life lies here."

What happens next is telling. Christian starts running up the hill. Soon he's walking. Then crawling on his hands and knees, inch by inch.

Isn't that the perfect picture of the Christian life? We start with enthusiasm, convinced we can conquer whatever lies ahead. Then reality hits. The climb gets steeper. Our strength wanes. And we find ourselves on our hands and knees, fighting for every inch of progress.

The Cost of Genuine Love

One of the primary reasons our spiritual journey feels so taxing is because of people. Other people can be difficult. Exhausting, even. Yet being a genuine Christian means being rooted in Christian community—a community marked by supernatural love.

When we truly love others, we put our hearts out there, weak and vulnerable. Sometimes we get taken advantage of. Sometimes our hearts get stomped on. We might expect that from a broken world, but when it happens in the church? That hits differently.

The Apostle Paul understood this reality intimately. In 2 Corinthians 12, we encounter Paul at his most emotionally vulnerable. He's spent years pouring himself into the Corinthian church—leading many to Christ, sacrificing his own comfort, serving with patience and perseverance. Yet they questioned his motives. They compared him unfavorably to flashy false teachers. They accused him of being crafty and deceitful.

Paul's frustration is palpable: "I have been a fool in boasting. You have compelled me." He never wanted to defend himself or list his credentials. But the Corinthians' infatuation with these so-called "super apostles" forced his hand.

It's like a father who has loved and served and sacrificed everything for his children, only to have them ask, "Do you really love me?" The question itself wounds.

The Paradox of Strength in Weakness

Paul makes a striking statement: "I was not inferior to any of the other apostles, even though I am nothing." What a paradox! He is nothing in himself, yet because his ministry is authentic and given by the Lord, it is everything.

This echoes a profound truth: no one can give to others what he himself has not received. Paul had nothing to offer except what Christ had given him. And because Christ had given him everything, he had everything to give.

Authenticity begins with receiving Christ's grace, not projecting our own strength.

Paul reminded the Corinthians that he had performed signs and wonders among them. But notice what the Scripture emphasizes alongside those miracles: "with all perseverance," "with utmost patience," "with great endurance." The true mark of Paul's apostolic ministry wasn't flashy miracles—it was his patient, enduring love.

He even refused financial support from them, trying to bless them with his generosity. And how did they respond? They misunderstood his motives and got offended by his kindness.

Sound familiar?

When Love Makes You Look Foolish

How often do we do the same thing? In the middle of conflict, we choose to see only the negative in a person. We forget the past—the love they've shown us, the times they've supported us, the care they've demonstrated. In the moment, we act only on what we can see right now.

Here's the uncomfortable truth: when you truly love and serve people—even Christians—you will sometimes play the fool. You will put your heart on the line only to be stepped on and rejected. Relationships you thought would last a lifetime suddenly turn. People you considered brothers and sisters in Christ betray you.

Questions swirl: What happened? Did I miss something? Was I wrong to love them in the first place?

Why does this happen? Because genuine Christ-like love is always giving, always pursuing, always looking to the interests of others. And true Christ-like love is never safe.

After being hurt, it's tempting to create boundaries, to build protective barriers. "I'm never going to get close again. I don't want to be hurt anymore." Who hasn't been there?

But here's the thing: as hard as it is, as unsafe as we might feel, Christians must love others sacrificially. Not because they'll love us back 100% of the time. Not so we'll be treated fairly. But because we have first been loved.

Jesus said it clearly: "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you are to love one another" (John 13:34).

One-Way Love

If anyone ever put His heart out there for us to stomp on, it was Jesus. He loved us beyond what we deserve, beyond what we can quantify. He loves us not because we're lovable, but because He chose to love us before we ever had a thought of Him.

God's love is all one-way grace. One-way love.

And yet, how often do our hearts wander? How often do we turn away? Still, we cannot break His bond of love toward us. Though we wander, He always pursues and always brings back His own.

This is the love we're called to reflect. When we truly love one another, we're going to look foolish sometimes. We'll endure misunderstanding. Our words will be misconstrued. Someone might question our motives.

But press into God's design for the community of faith, and you will find God to be unceasingly faithful through it all.

Spend and Be Spent


Paul uses extravagant language to describe his love for the Corinthians: "I will very gladly spend and be spent for your souls" (2 Corinthians 12:15). His love wasn't transactional—it was sacrificial.

He tells them plainly: "I seek not what is yours, but you." Paul wasn't after their money, their applause, or their resources. He longed for their very souls.

This is the manifesto for Christian love: spend and be spent. Be the chief servant in the room. Despite our profound weakness, the Lord upholds us. We look to God alone, and He is merciful and gracious, abounding in steadfast love.

Your job, your company, your career—these will one day pass away. But you know what will exist in eternity? The people in your life who love Jesus more because you loved them. The people who follow Jesus because of your faithfulness to share Christ with them.

You have the opportunity to give yourself to souls that are eternal, to love them, to spend the best of yourself on them for their eternal good.

The Danger of Ideal Conditions

Scientists once built Biosphere 2, a three-acre enclosure designed to simulate Earth's ecosystems under ideal conditions. They planted trees that grew unusually fast. But then something peculiar happened—the trees would shoot up quickly, then fall over and die.

Why? The lack of wind created trees with softer wood. They couldn't stand up to the survival challenges they would normally face in the wild. They grew more quickly, but not more sturdy.

Ideal conditions do not make for ideal trees. And ideal conditions do not make for ideal Christians.

If we're not blown about by the gusts and gales of life's hardships, we grow soft and fall over in our faith. If you wait for conditions to line up perfectly before you love another person, that day will never come.

The Beautiful Mess

Church is messy because people are messy. But here's the good news: it's Jesus' mess. He's put all His stock in the local church. He has promised to build His church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it.

The church of Jesus Christ is His own bride that He is coming back for one day, pure and spotless. The exalted King of glory humbled Himself and gave Himself for her.

If you call yourself a Christian and have received all the spiritual benefits of Christ's sacrifice, are you willing to do the same for His bride? Will you spend and be spent for her? Will you endure the sorrow and sacrifice for the joy set before you?

Loving others with a Christ-like love is not safe. But it's so worth it.

The hill called Difficulty still rises before us. Sometimes we'll run. Sometimes we'll walk. And sometimes we'll crawl on our hands and knees, fighting for every inch. But onward we stumble, together, toward the Celestial City—wounded healers loving one another with the supernatural love of Christ.
Pastor Sam Morgan

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