07/17/2026
If I stand behind a pulpit and speak with the eloquence of scholars, quote scripture in every ancient tongue, and move a crowd to tears but I walk past the homeless man on the church steps without seeing him, I am nothing but noise. A clanging cymbal in a sanctuary built for God, echoing off walls that never learned to open its doors.
If I can recite doctrine flawlessly, unpack every hidden mystery of the Word, defend the faith in every debate, and quote enough verses to silence any critic but I have no room in my heart for the addict, the alcoholic, the adulterer, the outcast my community has already written off, I have gained nothing. I am a theologian without a heart, a Bible without hands.
If I tithe faithfully, volunteer every Sunday, and let my name be known for generosity from the pulpit but I have not first loved the person everyone else refuses to sit beside, my offering means nothing. It is performance, not sacrifice.
Real love is patient with the addict trying again for the tenth time. Real love is kind to the person the congregation whispers about. It doesn’t need someone else to fall so it can feel righteous by comparison. It doesn’t boast about its own holiness while measuring others’ sin. It doesn’t gossip about the divorced, the pregnant teenager, the one who relapsed. It isn’t easily offended by someone who doesn’t look, dress, or believe the way we do. It doesn’t celebrate when someone falls, it grieves it, and it stays.
Real love doesn’t give up on the outcast when they disappoint it. It doesn’t abandon the sinner when they’re inconvenient. It keeps showing up at the shelter, at the hospital bed, at the family gathering where things are still broken, at the door of the one everyone else has locked out.
Programs will end. Sermon series will be forgotten. Even our best theology is incomplete, we see through a glass darkly, certain of so little. But love does not fade. And so, faith, hope, and love remain but the greatest of these is love. Not the love we preach. The love we practice, with our hands, in the places no one is watching, for the people no one else will touch.
The Body of Christ must return to LOVE Who is YHWH. We ARE in UNION with YHWH, this is who the children of YHWH ARE, pure undefiled and unconditional LOVE. It’s natural, it’s divine, it’s CHRIST in us as us.