What is love?

Today, we begin an exploration of love.

Love is talked about everywhere—in our songs, our stories, our prayers, and our longings. Yet for all its mention around us, something about it still feels just out of reach. The more we talk about love, the more we seem to hunger for it. I think that’s a sign—not of love’s failure, but of our culture’s failure to understand what love truly is.

So I’d like to bring that question into our class today. In this series of discussions, we’re going to talk honestly about the many forms of love—the ways we experience it, misunderstand it, and long for it—and we’ll look together at what God says about love in Scripture.

This is an intimate and searching topic. But I believe that by opening up about it together, we will not only learn about love, but begin to grow in love. And that is the beginning of true spiritual life.

When asked about the greatest commandment, Jesus didn’t point to a ritual, doctrine, or law—he pointed to love. It is, in Jesus’ words, what all the Law and the Prophets hang upon.

In Matthew 22:37–40, Jesus says:

“‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’
This is the first and greatest commandment.
And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’
All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

We’ve heard these verses countless times—from church pulpits, classrooms, and even civic speeches—yet we rarely pause to ask: What does it really mean to love?

Behind this silence lies an unspoken assumption: that everyone already knows what love is. Because love feels so natural and desirable, we assume its meaning is self-evident. But is it?

If we have never truly examined what love is, then how can we live it as Jesus commands? How can we practice love toward God, toward others, and even toward ourselves if our understanding remains vague or sentimental?

For today’s class, I want us to explore how we often blind ourselves to the knowledge of love—how love becomes obscured by habit, culture, fear, and misunderstanding. This sets us up for a lot of disillusionment about love. 

We grow up surrounded by messages about love—in songs, movies, sermons, and families—yet few of them teach us what love actually is. We confuse love with desire, approval, or comfort. We equate it with being liked or needed. We imagine it as something that happens to us rather than something we must learn to do.

So, when love fails to deliver what we expect—when relationships falter, communities disappoint, or even God feels distant—we become disillusioned. We start to think that love itself is unreliable, when in fact it is our understanding of love that is shallow or distorted.

The writer and cultural critic bell hooks devoted much of her life to exploring love as a moral and spiritual practice. She believed that our deepest human longing—to give and receive love—has been distorted by a culture that confuses love with desire, attachment, or comfort. In her book All About Love, she names this confusion with piercing honesty:

“Although love is essential to our lives, most of us have never been taught what it truly is or how to practice it. Our culture either treats love as romantic passion or dismisses it as weakness, leaving us disillusioned and silent about our deepest longings. We fear that speaking honestly about love will expose how little of it we feel, or how confused we are about its meaning. Yet beneath this silence, the desire for love remains strong—we want to know how to give it, receive it, and let it shape our communities. To move beyond woundedness and disappointment, we must face the fact that we know little about love and begin the hard but life-giving work of reflecting on how it shows up in our everyday lives.

So many of us long for love but lack the courage to take risks. Even though we are obsessed with the idea of love, the truth is that most of us live relatively decent, somewhat satisfying lives even if we often feel that love is lacking. In these relationships, we share genuine affection and/or care. For most of us, this feels like enough because it is usually a lot more than we received in our families of origin. Undoubtedly, many of us are more comfortable with the notion that love can mean anything to anybody precisely because when we define it with precision and clarity it brings us face to face with our lacks-with terrible alienation. The truth is, far too many people in our culture do not know what love is. And this not knowing feels like a terrible secret, a lack that we have to cover up.

Learning faulty definitions of love when we are quite young makes it difficult to be loving as we grow older. Most of us learn early on to think of love as a feeling. When we feel deeply drawn to someone, we cathect with them; that is, we invest feelings or emotions in them. That process of investment wherein a loved one becomes important to us is called cathexis. Most of us confuse cathecting with loving. We all know how often individuals feeling connected to someone through the process of cathecting insist that they love the other person even if they are hurting or neglecting them. Since their feeling is that of cathexis, they insist that what they feel is love.”

The bible presents a picture of love that stands diametrically opposed to how we perceive it in this culture:

In 1 John 4:7–12, love is presented as the Nature of God:

“Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God… Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.”

Love isn’t just something God does—it’s who God is. To know God is to participate in love. That means love is not optional; it’s the very substance of our spiritual identity.

In 1 Corinthians 13, love is action, it is not a feeling: 

^“ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.⁸ Love never fails.

Paul’s famous passage reframes love as a way of acting rather than a way of feeling. It is steadfast, disciplined, and moral—not romantic or sentimental. It describes how God loves and how Christians are called to love in return.

In John 15:12–13, 4 love is Self-Giving:

“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

Here Jesus redefines love as sacrificial friendship—a love that costs something. It’s not about reciprocity but about giving life for others. 

These passages present an image of love that is at odds with our current understanding of it.

In our time, love has become psychologized and privatized. It’s understood mainly as an emotion or a personal experience. We say we “fall in love,” “lose love,” “don’t feel it anymore.” Love is something that happens to us, something fleeting, often mixed with desire or dependency. It is centered on how another person makes us feel—on gratification, chemistry, or emotional fulfillment.

This view of love is deeply shaped by consumer culture, where everything—even relationships—is defined by preference and exchange. We “choose” partners the way we choose products: by how well they meet our needs. When the feeling fades or the cost becomes too high, we move on. Love becomes conditional, disposable, and centered on the self.

Even in spiritual spaces, love often gets diluted into niceness—being agreeable, tolerant, or polite—rather than being the fierce, truth-telling, transformative force we see in Jesus’ teaching. We may talk about “loving everyone,” but we resist the vulnerability, self-giving, and forgiveness that real love demands.

Underneath all of this is fear—fear of rejection, fear of loss, fear of being known. Our culture teaches us to protect ourselves from pain rather than to risk ourselves in love. So we settle for forms of affection that are safe but shallow.

Christianity is often described as “the religion of love”—and in one sense, that’s deeply true. Jesus made love the center of his message: love for God, love for neighbor, and even love for one’s enemies. The early Christians were so marked by this radical love that Roman observers remarked, “See how they love one another.”

But over time, that love has too often become a slogan rather than a lived reality. The church has preached love while practicing exclusion, hierarchy, and fear. So to say that Christianity is the religion of love is both a truth and a challenge—it is true in essence, but it calls us to constant self-examination.

If love is at the heart of the gospel, then we can’t just believe in love but to learn how to love as God loves—faithfully, courageously, and without condition. That’s what makes Jesus’ commandment so radical: it demands transformation of the self, not just moral behavior.

The Bible shows us that love is not simply a feeling or an instinct, but a way of seeing and choosing that must be learned. As John writes, “Let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth” (1 John 3:18). Love must be practiced—and that practice begins with unlearning what we thought love was.

That’s what we’ll begin doing together today: uncovering the illusions that keep us from knowing love, and rediscovering what Jesus meant when he commanded us to love with our whole heart, soul, and mind.

Have you ever thought about the definition of love from the bible and compared that to the definition of love from culture? If Jesus says that all of faith and life hang on love, then what happens when we don’t really know what love is? When you hear the word “love,” what images or experiences come to mind—and how many of them truly reflect the kind of love Jesus describes here? What would it cost you—or what would have to change in you—to love as Jesus commands: with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind?

C-J: Michael, you are a product of your generation. Love—really, we just substitute the word oxytocin. It’s all about survival, and each generation defines what that means. Look at all the war brides who came to the United States. Look at people who lived in arranged marriages. You’re right—there are different kinds of love—but it’s all about survival, about community. It is a bartering.

You grew up in a generation inundated with images and messages. My generation grew up with something simpler: here’s the equation, practice it, and the rest will follow. People will like you—which is part of survival. As for all those rules about what you think, believe, feel, or experience, your passions will change. It’s not just maturity—it’s when you begin to see the full spectrum, not just in the rearview mirror, but saying, “I know what this is—no, thank you,” or, “Tell me more.”

You’re at that middle stage where you’re empowered, educated, and have access. You start to ask: Where’s the balance? Where’s the truth? Now, bring in God. We are human and finite, and everything we think of as attributes of God comes through our experiences. In the Spirit—the Holy Spirit—something transcends that. There are no words to express it, only incredible humility and gratitude when God has done a work in your life.

When you say, “I can’t stand this anymore in me,” or “I don’t understand what’s happening around me,” and the Holy Spirit gives you a peace that passes understanding—you realize only God could do that. Then you begin to see through different eyes. God says, “I am with you—even in the furnace, even in the belly of the whale, even in war.” We don’t understand it, but that’s the difference between the spiritual and the human effort to maneuver through life.

When I was a child, I thought as a child. When you reach the latter part of life, you look back and ask, “What works? What doesn’t? Why?” Finally, you rest on Thy will be done. You don’t question it anymore—or at least, not as much.

Michael: So is your generation better than mine?

C-J: That’s a typical question for your generation to ask! 😉 

Michael: You’re the one who started it! 🙂

C-J: I didn’t come from that premise. My generation was “peace, love, and brown rice,” but we were also rebels. We wanted the right to vote, the right over our own bodies, equal pay for equal work. We were rebels, but we also believed in equality. I don’t care what you look like, what your politics are, or who you believe is God. What matters is your sense of humanity and your care for the planet.

That was my generation—and we lived through three wars: World War II, Korea, Vietnam—and then all the skirmishes afterward, even 9/11, Iran, Iraq, Somalia. We tried to be peacemakers. We wanted women to have a voice in politics, education to be open to all, social justice for everyone.

Your generation says, “What’s in it for me? I want it now. I don’t believe in deferred gratification.” We grew up with discipline, sacrifice, and saving. “Just because you want it doesn’t mean you get it.” It’s a whole different paradigm.

Donald: I appreciate what you’re saying, Connie, but I don’t think we can boil it down to generations. You can say it in general terms, but what you started and where we’ve ended up—if Christ said that loving one another is central, then that’s what Michael was expressing. We can’t pass it off as something generational.

There are many influences—environment, means, education—that shape our perspectives, but Christ didn’t put parameters around love. He said, “Love one another.” That’s a commandment.

So I think we need to unpack what that means. Who do I love? Well, everyone. But most of us probably have a shorter list than “everybody.” Respecting and treating people properly connects back to what you said, Connie.

I find it really challenging—sometimes family members are harder to love than others because they have “skin in the game.” I expect them to respond a certain way because they’re family, and if they don’t, I start judging. But that’s not the command. The command is to love one another, without qualification.

David: It was two commandments, wasn’t it? The first tells us what to love, the second who to love. But the second depends upon the first—upon what we love.

We stumble when we try to define God. We’re told to love God, but the problem isn’t the word love—it’s God. Which God? The Islamic God, Buddha, Jesus? The word’s root is goodness*—so love goodness. Then, when you apply that to loving your neighbor, you love them through goodness itself.

We can’t define it, but we know it when we experience it. It’s inherent—part of our spiritual DNA. When someone gives us love, we feel it. But culture gets in the way and skews that.

So think of it as two parts: love goodness, and with that, love your neighbor. Then it’s not a problem. You can’t write it down, but you know what it means.

C-J: But we don’t live in Shangri-La. We live here, and Jesus was clear about boundaries: “Render to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s.” That’s not just about politics—it’s about how to live. If the tree has leaves but no fruit, something’s wrong. God is always asking, “Where’s the fruit?”

We can’t fully experience the divine in this dimension—we’re not completely spirit beings. We need food, shelter, etc. God says, “In the lion’s den, I am with you.” This is temporary. Be willing to surrender completely to God, trusting Him to transform us and those around us.

Every person God sets in our path reflects something of God. We should ask, “Why has God brought you to me? What should I be learning from this?” That’s how I survive—by asking, “God, what are You doing in this? Who are You in this person?”

Carolyn: I feel we’re all on the same path. We’ve been asked to love, and I don’t think it’s possible without the Holy Spirit. The fruits of the Spirit begin with love—and one of those fruits is goodness. Without that Spirit to guide our intentions, we can’t rise above the human. Love brings joy, and that joy encourages us to continue in a godly way.

Don: I find it fascinating that this class can pivot from artificial intelligence to love—almost opposite ends of a spectrum. But maybe our English language betrays us. Scripture uses multiple words for love, but English doesn’t. Do other languages have more nuance—Arabic, Indonesian, Chinese? Is part of our confusion linguistic?

Michael: I’ve forgotten most of my Arabic, but at least in this culture, with our limited vocabulary, I was trying to pivot away from love as a feeling. Even in religion, love is often treated as emotion—“Have feelings for God.” But is that what it means to love God?

C-J: I think it’s relationship. I loved my parents—but as I matured, I understood why they did what they did. Love deepens as understanding grows.

Michael: Continuing with David’s thought—the Bible defines God as love. We don’t have to call God goodness; biblically, “God is love.” So, in a sense, we are called to love love—which is fascinating.

David: That’s where language matters. In Chinese, there’s only one word for love—ài in Mandarin—and maybe that’s true in most languages. We all know what it is. Everything else is commentary, as Rabbi Hillel said. The central commandment—love God, love your neighbor—is about living today, not just the hereafter.

Carolyn: David, do you think we feel love for God, or is it something we’re commanded to do? When we don’t feel it, we feel guilty. It says “pray unceasingly”—does that mean staying in an attitude of prayer, of constant love?

C-J: I think that’s bondage, Carolyn—cause and effect thinking. When you’re truly connected with someone, you don’t feel their absence. It’s not adolescent longing. It’s confidence in relationship—even when apart. That’s how it is with God.

Carolyn: But prayer keeps us in tune. If we’re in constant prayer, we’re in love with God always.

C-J: In that sense, I agree with you.

Reinhard: In my culture, we rarely say “I love you” aloud, but we show it through action. Love is expressed by how we treat one another. Jesus said, “If you love me, keep my commandments.” Loving God and loving others are inseparable. Without the Holy Spirit, it’s difficult—but through prayer, we can learn true love.

First Corinthians 13 shows that love is patient, long-suffering, kind. Love is essential to life and relationship. Other religions may emphasize peace or duty, but only Christianity commands love as central—especially agape love, the self-giving kind. Through prayer and the Spirit, we can express that love rightly.

Robin: The love of God—we have to ask for it. We’re born human and don’t know how to love as Christ loves. But when we ask, He breaks down barriers—culture, background, nation.

Every generation thinks the next is worse, but it’s the cycle of history. We must keep learning to love like Jesus. When my grandfather died, a coworker wrote something in a sympathy card I’ve never forgotten: “Our journeys may begin and end at different times, but our destination remains the same.” I think that’s profoundly true.

Donald: I appreciate all the thoughts shared—they’re diverse and deep. But I’m pragmatic: how does this change me? How does it affect how I treat people in my home, neighborhood, or community? When all is said and done, I hope God finds me faithful.

We know what selfishness is—the opposite of love. And as Reinhard mentioned, perhaps love isn’t as central in other faiths as in Christianity, though I’d like us to explore that further.

What troubles me is how fractured our world has become. It’s too easy to say “enough” and unfriend someone, surrounding ourselves only with those we agree with. The true test, I think, is how we treat others—that will be our ultimate judgment.

Carolyn: I’d add that we have to learn to love ourselves—not selfishly, but through God’s eyes. A person who never had a loving parent may struggle to hear God as Father. We need to learn self-love as part of spiritual wholeness.

Donald: I agree. You’re generous with others—emotionally generous. But I remember when the topic of being a “stumbling block” troubled you, and it shouldn’t. Maybe loving oneself includes confidence—though I’m still figuring out what that means.

Carolyn: You see it in children—some are assertive because they don’t feel good about themselves, others shy and fearful. Those children grow up into adults still fighting those same battles. We need to help them—and ourselves—know that God loves us.

Donald: For twenty years, I taught photography. Each semester, forty or fifty students came in, and we judged each other at first. Teaching them to express themselves creatively—that was sacred work. The key was critique with care—helping them see themselves more clearly. Maybe that’s part of love: honest critique within trust.

We encounter people every day—some often, some rarely. Does that change what love is or how it behaves? I don’t know.

Carolyn: When I took new students—children or adults—I always told them the person is more important than the subject. That’s how I see it with God, too: He’s teaching me, but I need the Holy Spirit to do it well.

Don: We have much to ponder. Michael, I think you’ll enjoy the fruits of this discussion in the weeks ahead.

C-J: Yesterday, I spoke with an active addict—she loves God, has supportive family, but struggles with darkness. Only the Holy Spirit can transform that. None of us can do it without God. Learning to love ourselves begins there. She loathed herself, but she knew God loved her.

Michael: I’m thankful you found this discussion engaging. The topic of love is vast, and self-love is an important part of it. We’ll try to demystify it together. But unlike what David said—that we all inherently know what love is—I’d like us to actually figure it out. Not just say, “We know it, we feel it.” That’s where our work begins.

* * * 

* Etymologically, the English word God does not derive from good; but philologically and theologically, from Ælfric through Augustine to C. S. Lewis, the Christian conviction has held that God is not merely good, but is Goodness itself. —DE