the church still knows...love

​"I'm not a smart man, but I know what love is."
​
​Forrest Gump says it to Jenny near the end of the movie, and somehow this simple character understands something our culture has forgotten. He can't articulate complex theories about love, but he knows what it is because he's lived it. He's shown up. He's been faithful. He's served without counting the cost.

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We live in a world that talks about love constantly but has largely forgotten what it actually means.

Culture sees love as a feeling. A romance. A transaction. We love people who make us happy, who meet our needs, who love us back. Love is about what we get out of it - fulfillment, validation, the right kind of attention.

"Love yourself first," the world says. Make sure you're getting what you need. Protect your peace. Set boundaries. Don't give more than you receive.

And when love gets hard? When it costs us something? When it asks more than we want to give? We leave. We move on. We find someone easier to love.

The world's version of love is conditional. Transactional. Safe. And ultimately, small.

But the Church still knows what love actually looks like.

Tonight is Maundy Thursday. The night we remember Jesus washing his disciples' feet. The night he gave them a new commandment. The night before he went to the cross.

It's one of the most important nights in the Christian calendar, and most of the world has no idea it exists.

But the Church has never forgotten. We gather. We wash feet. We break bread. We remember what Jesus showed us about love on this night - love that doesn't demand or take or protect itself, but love that kneels down and serves.

In John 13, Jesus gets down on his knees. He wraps a towel around his waist. He takes a basin of water and begins washing his disciples' feet. It’s the work of a servant, the lowest task in the household.

Peter resists. "You will never wash my feet." This isn't how it's supposed to work. Teachers don't serve students. Masters don't kneel before servants. This reverses everything.

But Jesus insists. "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me." This IS how it works. This is what love looks like.

Love serves. Love goes lower. Love kneels down and washes feet. Not because it feels good or because we'll get something in return, but because this is what love does.

After he finishes washing their feet, Jesus gives them a commandment: "Love one another as I have loved you" (John 13:34).

Not "love as much as you feel like it." Not "love when it's convenient" or "love the people who are easy to love."

Love as I have loved you. Sacrificially. Completely. To the end.

This is the standard. Not our feelings. Not what we think we can manage. Not what seems fair or reasonable. Jesus' love - the love that kneels, that serves, that goes all the way to the cross.

Tomorrow is Good Friday. The day we remember where this kind of love leads.

Jesus didn't just wash feet and call it love. He went to the cross. He gave everything. This isn't cheap sentiment or warm feelings. This is love that costs something. Love that doesn't protect itself. Love that dies so others might live.

The world's version of love says, "I'll give as long as I get something back." Jesus' love says, "I'll give everything, even if it costs me my life."

That's the love the Church has been practicing for two thousand years.

Tonight, churches around the world will wash feet. They'll kneel down in front of another person and serve them. It's awkward. Vulnerable. Countercultural. And that's exactly the point.

Some of us practice this ritual. Some of us don't. But all of us gather around the table tonight and remember: "This is my body, given for you." We break bread and remember what love actually costs.

The Church has never forgotten what love is. Not a feeling. Not a transaction. But a choice to serve, to sacrifice, to give without counting the cost.

Love goes lower. Love kneels. Love gives everything.

The world has forgotten. But the Church still knows.

And we're still practicing it, year after year, because the world desperately needs to see what real love is.

Peace,
Travis Segar
Pastor for Care and Community