The Church God Sees: A Church Marked by Love

John 13:31–35

In 1927, a boy named Jim Elliot was born in Portland, Oregon. His parents, Fred and Clara, raised him in a home that took holiness, Scripture, and the mission of God seriously. As a teenager he wrestled with real questions about purpose. Why waste a life on things that fade. What does it mean to fully surrender to Christ. At eighteen he enrolled at Wheaton College where he became obsessed with revival stories, missionary biographies, and the call of Jesus to reach the nations. His journal from those years contains a line that still cuts to the heart. Forgive me for being so ordinary while claiming to know so extraordinary a God.

In 1956 Jim and four other young missionaries flew into the jungles of Ecuador to reach a tribe known for cycles of revenge and isolation. They prayed. They prepared. They sent gifts. They believed that Jesus died for this tribe too. But on January 8 their plane landed on a sandbar and everything changed. They were speared. Their bodies later found downstream. Headlines across the country called it a tragedy. Jim left behind his wife Elisabeth and their ten month old daughter.

Reporters asked Elisabeth how she could forgive the men who killed her husband. Her answer revealed the entire foundation of the gospel. Jim did not die on that riverbank. He died years earlier when he gave his life to Jesus. And while the world mourned the loss, heaven was not finished. Two years later Elisabeth returned to the tribe. She lived among them. She learned their language. She showed love instead of hate. Revival came. Many believed in Christ. A church was planted. One of the very men who killed Jim became a preacher. The pilot’s son and the man who speared his father became best friends and preached the gospel together around the world. Steve Saint later said, the man who killed my father baptized my children.

This is what the gospel does. It conquers hatred. It creates family out of enemies. And it reveals the kind of Church God sees. A Church marked by love.

This passage in John thirteen reveals love at the most critical moment in history.

It is the night Jesus is betrayed. The public crowds are gone. The miracles are behind Him. The cross is hours away. What we call the Last Supper was the Passover meal, the most sacred celebration in Jewish life. Families brought lambs to sacrifice. Groups retold the Exodus story by candlelight. But on this night the story was unfolding in real time. Jesus was not remembering the lamb. He was becoming the Lamb.

Before the meal. Before the betrayal. Before Gethsemane. Jesus did something unthinkable. He washed their feet. He washed Peter’s feet knowing Peter would deny Him. He washed Thomas’s feet knowing Thomas would doubt. He washed James and John’s feet knowing they would fall asleep in the garden. He washed Matthew’s feet knowing the world still saw him as a tax collector. He washed Philip’s feet knowing he would still have questions. And yes, Jesus knelt and washed Judas’s feet knowing the betrayal that was moments away.

In that moment Jesus carved a new path for His followers. Love one another as I have loved you. Not love by convenience, but love by sacrifice. Not love by emotion, but love by action.

Love begins where pride dies.

Paul wrote to the Philippians from a prison cell. He had chains on his hands but joy in his voice. And from that place he pleaded with the Church to stop chasing recognition and start embracing humility. Do nothing from selfish ambition. Count others more significant than yourselves. Pride divides. Pride demands attention. Pride fights to be seen first. But real love begins where pride dies.

This is the lesson Jesus taught by washing feet. The world says climb higher. Jesus says go lower. The world says get even. Jesus says forgive freely. The world says make yourself great. Jesus says make yourself nothing. If we want to love like Christ, pride cannot survive.

The Church cannot be Spirit filled and love empty.

Paul wrote Galatians to a young Church being poisoned by legalism. The Judaizers taught that salvation required Jesus plus the Law. It was religion without love. It produced pride instead of power. And Paul wrote with urgency. Walk by the Spirit. Live by the Spirit. Bear the fruit of the Spirit. The very first fruit named is love.

Before joy. Before peace. Before patience. Love comes first. You can speak in tongues and miss the heart of God. You can operate in gifts and still miss the fruit. You can have miracles in the room but have no love in your heart. The early Church shook the world not only because of power but because of love. They fed the poor. They protected widows. They cared for orphans. They shared their possessions. Revival did not stay inside a building. Revival walked the streets because love walked the streets.

Love is the revival the world has been waiting for.

Jesus said the world will know we are His disciples by our love for one another. Not by sermons. Not by buildings. Not by programs. By love. The Church throughout history shocked the world through love. When plagues hit Rome believers stayed with the sick. When persecution burned churches believers hid the Word in their hearts. When lepers were cast out, Christians went in. When William Wilberforce fought slavery, he did it through faith. When Elisabeth Elliot forgave the tribe who killed her husband, the world saw Christ.

Love still shocks the world. And our valley is watching. When they look at Mountain Valley Chapel what will they see. A people who truly love. A people who forgive. A people who serve. A people who care. A people marked by love.

May we never settle for anything less.

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