What Christian Love Looks Like
It's not just "love those you agree with."
We’re fresh off of St. Valentine’s Day, when everyone waxed poetic about their significant other and maybe their kids. But how many of us looked up from our flowers and candy and thought about celebrating love in the spiritual sense?
Love of neighbor is kind of important for Christians. At least, it should be.
In my class on theologian Karl Rahner, I learned that Rahner sees love of neighbor as inextricably tied to our love of God. In fact, since God is a holy mystery that we can never fully know in our earthly state, he sees our love for others as the primary way we experience and express our love for God.
Christian love has been politicized these days into a twisted, ugly version of its purest self.
What does it look like to love your immigrant neighbor? Your gay neighbor? Your non-binary or trans neighbor? Your neighbor who doesn’t speak English or who can’t work? Your addicted neighbor? Your homeless neighbor? Your disabled neighbor?
How about the neighbor who voted for someone you find abhorrent for reasons you can’t even begin to comprehend? Your neighbor you vehemently disagree with? Your neighbor whose political views scare you? Your neighbor who doesn’t act loving toward you or those you care about?
All of these people are in our lives to some degree or another. All of these people are still God’s creation, worthy of the innate dignity bestowed on them simply by their existence.
This is something I think both the political left and right get wrong. Folks on the left say “love your neighbor,” but they don’t include anyone who voted for Trump or doesn’t have the “correct” political view on a litany of issues. People on the right say “love your neighbor,” but they don’t include anyone who threatens their “Christian values”1 (loaded statement there).
A reminder: If your identity is in Christ, it should not also be in one political party or another.
Christian love is not tough love. It’s not telling people all the ways they’re wrong and need to repent. It’s just love, full stop. The kind that makes sacrifices and is willing to be uncomfortable. The kind that helps the people right in front of them. The kind that shows respect for everyone’s human dignity.
We are living through what I consider to be scary political times in the US right now. People’s basic rights are at stake. I don’t take that lightly. I’m not saying this isn’t a time to take action and stand up for what’s right. I’m saying that the politicization of “the other” has to stop. Love is how we change hearts and minds.
We are all neighbors in this world. To love God is to love one another—no exceptions.
“. . . we should not see otherness and diversity as a barrier to unity but rather as a prerequisite for unity. Unity is not a numerical compilation of more of the same. Unity is the communion of what is other.”
The Source of All Love by Heidi Russell (p. 101)
If you’re new here, welcome. I don’t talk outright about politics often (although I have been known to rage about capitalism and overconsumption). When these are the political waters we’re swimming in, it’s hard not to.
My writing is an Ignatian take on daily spirituality: God in all things. I can’t predict what that will look like in the coming months and years, but I do believe that God in all things includes love of neighbor through activism and advocacy. Please know that whichever side of the aisle you find yourself on, you are welcome here in love. Please also know that this will always be a space that stands for the dignity of every human being.
I’d like to acknowledge that the “Christian values” of the political right are, at this point, rooted in white nationalism more than the teachings of the Bible. Yet at the same time, I have to think of the folks who believe this on an individual level. Imagine them as children being taught about God. What a tragedy that so many have been raised to believe in a God of fear and hatred rather than of inclusivity and love, all in an effort to gather and hold tight to power for a small group of people. When I think of those folks as children, being misled about who God is, I find it much easier to access a well of compassion.