As Yourself: The Spiritual Work of Self-Love

Matthew 22:34–40 — The Greatest Commandment
34 Hearing that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together. 35 One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: 36 “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” 37 Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ 40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

When we usually read the greatest commandment, we assume that love should be directed toward two entities: first, toward God, and second, toward our neighbor. Today, however, I would like to suggest that there are actually three entities to whom love is commanded — the third being yourself.

We often take love directed toward ourselves for granted. We assume that because myself refers to me, loving myself must be natural and automatic. I love myself; why wouldn’t I? Yet this assumed self-love becomes even more complicated within the church, where we are exhorted to love others and to sacrifice ourselves for them. Within Christian communities, self-love is often confused with selfishness. The very idea that we might need to learn how to love ourselves can sound almost preposterous.

But Jesus does not treat self-love as something obvious or automatic. When He says, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” He reveals that the way we love ourselves becomes the very standard by which we love others. This is not metaphorical; it is literal. We can only love others to the same depth that we genuinely love ourselves. If my love for myself is unhealthy, fearful, or distorted, then that is precisely the kind of “love” I will offer to others. The love we give cannot exceed the love we have learned to receive.

We tend to confuse love of self with selfishness, imagining that to care for oneself is to steal attention away from God or from others. But selfishness is not self-love; it is the fruit of self-neglect and self-rejection. When I do not know that I am loved, I become desperate for approval, attention, or control. I grasp and cling because I am terrified that there is not enough love to go around. Selfishness is a fear of scarcity — it speaks the language of mistrust, envy, competition for attention, separateness, judgment, striving, and the constant anxiety of proving worth. When we don’t feel loved — when we are loveless — we compare and criticize; we label others as winners or losers, good or bad. We center ourselves in yearning, expectation, and dissatisfaction, convinced that intimacy is limited, fragile, or conditional.

The origin of this lovelessness is shame, and if you recall the story of our spiritual parents, the first feeling Adam and Eve experienced after their eyes were opened was shame. “Then the eyes of both were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.” (Genesis 3:7) Shame, therefore, is our spiritual inheritance from the original sin. It is the first fracture in our ability to see ourselves as beloved.

When I feel shame, I begin to doubt my worth. And when my worth is in doubt, I start working to earn it back — through performance, perfection, and pleasing others. Shame tells me that love must be won, that I am valuable only if I prove myself indispensable, generous, or self-denying. When I am trying to be “good,” my actions originate from a place of anxiety rather than freedom. In this state, I am not truly giving; I am managing appearances, trying to control how others see me so that I might finally feel acceptable to myself.

In our culture and churches, we often mistake this performance of goodness for love. We applaud the person who never says no, who gives endlessly, who disappears into serving others — even if that person is secretly exhausted, resentful, or hollow. We call it holiness, but it is often fear in disguise. The work of appearing loving becomes a shield against the deeper fear that, without this constant giving, I might be exposed as unworthy of love.

This is how self-sacrifice becomes confused with love. Instead of love flowing from the fullness of being seen and cherished by God, it becomes an act of self-erasure — an attempt to secure what grace has already given. True love, by contrast, does not strive to earn approval; it arises from knowing that one is already beloved.

True self-love is rooted in God’s abundance. It honors the sacredness of the life God has created and entrusted to me. It is a spiritual act of agreeing with God’s delight. Jesus said, “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (John 10:10), framing divine love as overflowing life rather than scarcity. Paul assures us of this same truth in Ephesians 3:19–20, praying that we may “be filled to the measure (brim) of all the fullness of God… who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.” And the psalmist rejoices in God’s abundance: “They feast on the abundance of your house; you give them drink from your river of delights. For with you is the fountain of life.” (Psalm 36:8–9)

God’s love and self-love speak the same language — the language of abundance. They express themselves in gratitude, fulfillment, trust, respect, compassion, faith, wholeness, commitment, acceptance, responsibility, resilience, and inner richness. They help us celebrate quality of connection over quantity of attention. They center us in integrity, possibility, and resourcefulness. And they teach us to define our worth and our relationships not by the validation we extract, but by the love we offer.

For many of us, this language of abundance feels distant from our inner reality. We may speak of God’s love easily, but when it comes to receiving that love for ourselves, something resists. As we talked about last week, receiving love from God is very hard. To believe that God loves others seems easy enough; to believe that God delights in me can feel presumptuous. I can count all my sins. I know all my dark thoughts. I am full of shame that I can never disclose to others. How could God love someone like me? I tell myself that I need to shape up, drop my sins, and be a good Christian — then maybe God might have some mercy on me.

But this is when the audacity of God’s grace comes barging in. Grace does not let me wallow in self-pity; it confronts me with a deeper wound — my very separation from God. Yet that is precisely the moment where I can receive the love of God: in the realization that I can never do anything to make myself “enough.”

Ephesians 1:4–6 declares: “For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will — to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves.” To love ourselves, then, is simply to believe that God is telling the truth about who we are. 

If the command to love others depends on learning to love ourselves first, what would that demand of us? How can we discern whether our “love” is rooted in shame or in freedom? When we serve others, are we giving from fullness or from fear? What would it look like to believe that God already delights in you, before you accomplish or prove anything? How might your daily choices — the way you speak to yourself, care for your body, rest, set boundaries, or accept kindness — change if you trusted that you were already beloved? How do we resolve the paradox that healthy self-love actually deepens our capacity for sacrifice that heals rather than depletes?

Carolyn: This is a very hard topic for me. Self-love has always been a question mark — especially where it comes from in the greatest commandment. I’ve only begun to come to grips with it, and I can say that unless I have a constant relationship and ongoing conversation with my Lord, I find it very hard to know how to love myself with a godly love that isn’t jeopardized by my sinful nature. Thank you, Michael — you’ve opened up many pathways of thought for me. I need to chew on these ideas to become firm, confident, and sure of myself.

Michael: I share that, Carolyn. It’s very hard to love ourselves first. And it gets even more complicated within the church because of other commandments by Jesus, where people emphasize self-denial and self-sacrifice as forms of love.

Michael: I wonder if those teachings might sometimes be misunderstood. I think love should come first from God to myself, and then flow outward to others. It’s not that I’m sacrificing myself — I’m giving from fullness rather than from fear or scarcity. I’d love to hear others’ experiences and thoughts about that.

Anonymous: Michael, it’s clearly stated in the Bible that we are to deny ourselves and follow Jesus if we want eternal life. That’s very clear. I don’t see anywhere in the Bible that encourages me to love myself for any reason. Like you said, God’s love flows through me; I’m not the owner of this love, only a channel. If I don’t experience God’s love, there’s no way I can give it. You love everyone only because you’ve experienced God’s love — not because you first loved yourself.

Carolyn: I don’t think it’s possible to love ourselves except through the great commandment. We have to be totally immersed and in tune with Jesus to love ourselves — to have the confidence to open our mouths, our arms, and our whole being to love others. When we feel that love — and it is both a choice and a feeling — we sense God’s glorious arms around us telling us we are loved. That’s when His love comes through us to reach others, and that’s when the joy of grace appears. My head tells me this, but it’s hard to wrap my mind fully around it. Yet when it happens, it’s like hearing a perfect concert — everything fits, and you can’t help but smile and feel joy inside and out. When you love others as you love yourself, you look up to the Lord and say, “Thank you, Lord.”

Don: I think, Michael, you need to modify that metaphor about the cup being filled. As Psalm 23 says, “My cup runneth over.” So the question is: how do we establish a plan to love ourselves, recognizing that loving ourselves is a condition of loving others, and that the love we’re talking about comes from God? How do we activate that longing if we don’t feel loved?

Michael: Next week we’ll look at Jesus as an example of self-love — realizing that He was much better than we are at loving Himself. He took care of Himself, accepted love from others, said no when He wasn’t ready, rested, and took time off. We don’t do that. I don’t know if those are part of the “steps,” but recognizing that I have worth simply for who I am — not because of what I do — really helps.

Carolyn: Why do we do good things? Why do we reach out? What is our motive? You mentioned setting boundaries… I’ll just leave it there.

Anonymous: The cup in Psalm 23 has to be filled from somewhere in order to overflow. It doesn’t get filled by self-love — only by God’s love. Only then can we overflow with love to others.

Carolyn: I agree. But there’s a part of us that must act. Love is a verb, not just something passive — though it’s hard to find the words for it.

Michael: That’s a great observation. I wonder — is God’s love itself a form of self-love? If I let myself accept God’s love, is that self-love?

Anonymous: I don’t see it that way. Jesus was the ultimate example of self-denial. How could He encourage self-love? We don’t even need to take care of ourselves — He takes care of us. Why did He die on the cross? Because He loved Himself?

Michael: That’s a good question.

David: From a Daoist perspective, it’s not so much a matter of loving yourself as it is of accepting yourself — in the same way we’re asked to accept the Way. In Christian terms, Jesus is the Way; in Daoism, the Way means accepting things as they are. I am who I am — just accept that. You don’t have to “love” it.

There are many people — perhaps including myself — who can love others without necessarily loving themselves. I think of Mother Teresa. She wrote letters doubting her own faith, questioning herself deeply. She may not have loved herself as we define love, and yet she clearly loved her neighbor, the poor in India, with deep compassion. So I’m not convinced that we need to love ourselves; rather, we need to accept ourselves.

I’ve also always been fascinated by the greatest commandment — which turns out to be two that are “like” each other: love God and love your neighbor. Linguistically, that seems to separate the two — you can love God and love your neighbor, and they’re “like” each other but not the same. But I think Jesus meant they are one and the same thing. If you truly love God, you cannot help but love your neighbor, and if you love your neighbor, you are loving God. They are inseparable.

Carolyn: To be a little facetious — can you love some of the lawyers or politicians we see on TV? For me, that often brings out contempt, not love. Just watching the news makes it hard! If your neighbor is as loud or opinionated as some people on TV, then prayer has to come into it heavily.

David: We don’t want to discuss politics here, but there’s no doubt that this country is becoming deeply divided by it. Many of my neighbors have political views very different from mine — and I dislike those views intensely — but they’re still my neighbors, and I have to live with them. So I accept that they have their beliefs, just as I have mine. It doesn’t stop me from sitting down with them for a drink and a chat. I don’t hate them.

Despite what the news suggests, it’s still possible — and indeed imperative — to love our neighbors. I think that’s what Jesus meant.

Carolyn: The other side of that is we can pray for them — even pray with them, if possible. Love is supreme.

Reinhard: Love has a big meaning. The word almost means nothing unless it’s expressed through our actions toward others. We must show compassion and help others, both through words and deeds. Jesus said, “If you love me, keep my commandments.” That’s the expression of love — obedience to God’s will.

We must forgive, not envy, not be easily angered. As Paul wrote in First Corinthians 13, love is patient, love is kind. To me, that’s a message with great impact. Love requires readiness to sacrifice — to help when others need it, whether through financial support, emotional presence, or counsel. It’s not only words but actions.

When someone wrongs us, we must forgive and forget. People will see whether forgiveness is genuine — not just from our lips, but from our actions, our expressions, our faces. Love involves much: relationship, compassion, service. If we live selflessly and have the chance to help others, we should take it.

Don: This discussion raises an important question: What is the platform or foundation for loving your neighbor? Usually, we love people who are similar to us — same culture, religion, social class, or education. That sense of similarity seems to be the platform from which love grows.

But if you’re to love your neighbor who is, say, politically opposite — like, David, your “red state” neighbors — there must be something other than similarity defining that love. What is it?

David: It ties into what Reinhard said about love being active, and Carolyn’s point that love can’t be passive. I’m not sure about that. I think love can be passive — in the sense that I can simply accept my neighbors as fellow human beings, regardless of politics, religion, or color. I wish them no harm and want only blessings for them.

That’s a genuine love — I hope so, because that’s how I feel. But do I have to act on it? Do I have to perform some outward deed of love? I’m not sure. I think accepting everyone as God’s children — brothers and sisters — can itself be an act of love. We love our family members without always knowing why; it just exists.

So I’m not convinced love must always be active. When it is — as in Mother Teresa’s or Jesus’ case — that’s wonderful, the ultimate expression. But Christians, unlike Daoists, tend to worry about these things, beating themselves up for not “doing” enough. The Daoist doesn’t. He says, “It is what it is.”

Carolyn: Donald mentioned last week that Randy Roberts is giving a five-week series on “Love Your Neighbor.” The one on the 17th or 18th — on YouTube — beautifully describes what we’re talking about.

He emphasizes that the Lord also commands us to go and tell, which is the more active side of loving our neighbor. I want my neighbors to see Jesus in me — to see that confidence and love. Roberts told a story about people in church who don’t always agree. When you see someone you disagree with, and you notice them praying, if you go over, put your hand on their shoulder, and pray with them — that’s love. You don’t have to agree, but you can always find common ground and point to heaven in what you do.

That’s when “my cup overflows,” as in the 23rd Psalm — that’s joy.

Reinhard: I believe what Carolyn said about showing love actively depends also on personality. Someone who’s deeply in tune with God’s Word may show more active love to others — even going to a neighbor to pray with them. That’s possible for people who are close to God and apply His Word in their lives.

But, as David mentioned, passive love is also real. Some people simply don’t like to socialize much; they’re more reclusive. Yet even then, they can still love others through prayer — praying for people they may not associate with. That’s an expression of love, too.

Personality plays a big role. Some people prefer quiet expressions of care; others are more outgoing. Love, like faith, involves free will — we choose to give love to others. The Spirit of God in us brings more love, joy, and patience, changing us from within. When we’re in tune with God’s Word, that love naturally expresses itself more outwardly.

Sharon: This is such an interesting discussion. It’s much easier for us to talk about loving our neighbors than about loving ourselves. Michael keeps bringing us back to the question of self-love, and I find it fascinating that we keep steering away from it.

Which comes first — the chicken or the egg? Maybe it’s not “first and second” but something bi-directional: sometimes, by loving our neighbors, we actually begin to love ourselves. Because we’re social beings, we need each other. I appreciate the Daoist idea of que sera, sera — what will be, will be — but I also think there’s a mandate for us to love one another as a way of learning to love ourselves.

Another question is: what characterizes a person who lacks self-love? We’ve all known people who are angry, pessimistic, or hard to love — maybe because they don’t love themselves. Speaking as someone who thinks like a counselor, I wonder: when I see someone full of self-hate or self-criticism, what’s my strategy to help them begin to see themselves within an environment of grace — not by preaching, but by living it?

What are the social dynamics of self-hate? How can we help someone start to see themselves as having eternal value, especially when they’ve grown up surrounded by negativity or abuse? Many people can’t feel peace about who God created them to be because they’ve never experienced unconditional love.

This is an extremely complex issue. As a Christian walking through life, I must hold to the perspective that I have infinite value — because Christ gave His life for me. But then how do I help others who can’t see their own value? How can I become a channel of Christ’s love to them — not by preaching, but by loving them unconditionally in a world that’s full of negativity?

Michael, the issues you’re raising are powerful. I think if we could all truly accept Christ’s unlimited love for us — and then share that same love — it would transform the world.

Speaker 1: Paul says in First Corinthians 15:10, “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than all of them, though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me.” That almost sounds like a Daoist statement!

Carolyn: Everyone I meet, I want to show Jesus — even if I say nothing, just through my actions. But Jesus also said, “Shake the dust off your feet and move on.” That comes to mind when I’ve been rebuffed, which hasn’t happened often but still shakes me. There’s that little corner of the Bible that reminds me of this, though I’m not sure if the Daoists have something similar — I’d love to know.

Michael: As humans, we tend to think linearly — always wanting an “either/or” answer. But in spiritual matters, as Carl Jung noted, there are paradoxes. Love is both a feeling and an action. We give love, but sometimes our giving doesn’t work, and we must turn away. The same applies to self-sacrifice and self-love. The key is that self-sacrifice done from fullness is very different from sacrifice done from emptiness.

David: That connects with something Don often says — that we each have a “toolkit” of capabilities. One of those tools is love. The tools and their amounts vary at different times in life and from person to person. As Reinhard mentioned, we all have different capacities — to love others, ourselves, and even God — at any given time.

All we’re expected to do is the best we can with the toolkit we have at the moment. That would also be the Daoist perspective.

Michael: I want to say something to David — I don’t think your love for your neighbors is passive at all. Even if you’re not physically doing something for them, accepting them as they are is itself active. Deciding to love is an act of love.

David: Good point.

Rimon: Consider John 3:16. Trying to understand God’s love for us is a huge thing — it’s hard to wrap my head around it. He loves the world — loves us — even as sinners, enough to give His Son. If we could truly see that from God’s perspective, that love would change how we view everything. Understanding God’s love for us helps us grasp how to love others — even those with very different perspectives. God loves not just the righteous but sinners, too. That’s profound.

Reinhard: I agree. God is love, and we are made in His image. So, in a sense, we all carry God’s DNA — His love — within us. How each person expresses that love depends on their faith and closeness to God. The more we know Him, the easier it is to give love, both passively and actively.

We’ve been given God’s love in our hearts. The more love we give, the more we receive in return — like the saying, “The more you give, the more you get.” It’s the same with love.

David: The difference is that God’s toolkit is filled entirely with love — nothing else. That’s all He has to give, to anyone and everyone. We can’t match that toolkit.

Michael: Do we give love to everyone? It fascinates me that when we say “everyone,” we often forget to include ourselves. Why is that? Why am I not part of “everyone”?

Anonymous: God’s love came to me through a very real experience in my life, and only then did I begin to understand it. It wasn’t instant; it happened step by step — understanding what it means to love God with all my heart, soul, strength, and mind, and to love others the same way. That realization gave new life to a lifestyle of love.

When you experience that revelation, you can’t help but love everyone — no matter how different or how bad they are. But if you only learn about God intellectually, as from a book, it won’t be real. You can talk about love, you can teach about it, but you can’t live it unless you’ve truly immersed yourself in it. Real love comes from inside out. Maybe someday I can share that story.

Rimon: You said it — inside out. If you don’t have love in you, you can’t receive the love of God. When you open yourself to Him — honestly, vulnerably — you begin to feel His love within. Without that inner love, people often fall into depression or despair.

We can’t love God, or others, unless we first have love within us. That’s what Michael means — not selfish love, but being filled with God’s love. Without that inner abundance, we can’t express love outwardly. It’s not vanity; it’s fullness. The life God gives us flows from that love.

Anonymous: If we just focus on the verse “God is love,” that alone can illuminate everything. If you have love in your heart, you can replace the word love with God. If you have God in your heart, you have love. It’s one and the same.

Carolyn: I think of the people who passed by the wounded man on the road — the Good Samaritan stopped because something was alive in his heart. There was no question; he just stopped. That’s what I want — to have that same love for everyone I see, meet, and hear about.

Don: I’m looking forward to our discussion next week. Michael, thank you for bringing this important topic to us. We’ll pray that you’ll be blessed as you prepare the next session.