We Mean Well… But Do We Love Well?
It was sometime around 1999 when I received a phone call from a pastor inviting me to speak at his church. I asked him a few questions about his congregation, his city, and his country. Something in my spirit said, Go.
When I landed, the pastor picked me up at the airport, and we drove nearly ten hours across rough terrain and winding roads. By the time we arrived at the church, service was already beginning. With no time to meet the congregation or even exchange more than a few words with the pastor, I stepped to the pulpit. The church was small fifty people or so but hungry to hear the Word of God. After I preached, I gave an invitation for people to make a decision for Christ.
When the service ended, a woman approached us with a young child at her side. I will never forget the moment. She was wearing a short skirt and a low-cut blouse, and I could see the pastor’s discomfort immediately. Her words came quickly, raw and honest:
“What does this mean for me?”
The pastor asked, “What do you mean?”
She blurted out, “Sir, I’m a single mother. I work as a cocktail waitress in a club. Does this mean I have to quit my job? Because if I do, how will I feed my son?”
Her eyes told me she was sincere, desperate for guidance. I felt the word No forming in my mouth, but before I could speak, the pastor stepped in:
“Yes,” he said firmly. “You must quit your job immediately.”
I froze. My heart sank.
Can I be painfully honest with you? As believers, we often mean well but we don’t always love well. We rush to give the “right” answer, but sometimes in our eagerness to defend truth, we forget the person standing in front of us.
I’ve wrestled with this tension my whole life. How do we stand firm on the unchanging Word of God while still extending the overwhelming love of God? If you lean only on truth, you can be harsh. If you lean only on grace, you can be empty. I often remind myself: truth without grace is mean, and grace without truth is meaningless.
In that moment, I knew I had to speak quickly. I looked at her and said, “Before you make any sudden decisions, let me ask you something. Is there anyone who comes into that bar who needs what you just experienced tonight?”
She paused, then chuckled softly. “Everyone,” she said.
“Then here’s what I’d suggest,” I told her. “First, be baptized. Second, dedicate your child in front of this congregation. And third, invite every person you know your friends, your family, your coworkers to come watch what God is doing in your life.”
She lit up. The pastor gave her a date, and sure enough, she followed through. She invited dozens of people from the bar, people from the grocery store, people from the doctor’s office. That day, nearly fifty people made decisions for Christ.
A year later, I returned to that same church. She walked right up to me, glowing. I barely recognized her. She was modestly dressed, her face radiant, her voice full of joy. “My life is so different now,” she told me. “My son is thriving. God gave me a new job. Everything has changed.”
That encounter has stayed with me all these years. Why? Because it showed me again what Jesus demonstrated so beautifully in John 8 with the woman caught in adultery. The religious leaders demanded punishment. They had the truth, but no love. Jesus, on the other hand, knelt down, wrote in the sand, and said, “Let the one without sin throw the first stone.”
He didn’t condemn her, but He didn’t excuse her either. He offered both truth and grace. He loved her enough to forgive her, and He loved her enough to tell her, “Go and sin no more.”
Friends, it’s not enough to mean well we must love well. People can belong before they believe. Sometimes the greatest way to lead someone toward God’s truth is to give them time, space, and love to experience His grace.