Love Is Not a Word — It Is a Demonstration: Do We Deeply Love Christ, or Have We Made Him Convenient?

The Lord woke me in the middle of the night last night with this message burning in my spirit.

I did not go looking for this word. I did not sit down trying to create something dramatic. I was awakened with a holy weight, and the more I lay there, the more I felt that this message was not simply for others. It was first for me.

It came as a question.

Do we deeply love Christ? I have called it “deep love,” but is this not the kind of love the Lord requires — a love that is not merely spoken, but demonstrated; a love that reveals whether we truly belong to Him and where we will spend eternity?

Not casually. Not religiously. Not conveniently. Not only when life allows room for Him.

Do we deeply love Him?

That question has stayed with me because I believe much of modern Christianity has become far too comfortable with a version of faith that costs very little, interrupts very little, confronts very little, and demands very little. We know how to include Jesus in our lives, but have we truly surrendered our lives to Jesus?

We can speak His name, attend church, quote Scripture, enjoy His blessings, and still keep parts of our hearts reserved for ourselves.

But Jesus is not an accessory to life.

He is Lord.

He is not one priority among many. He is the priority by which every other priority must be judged. He is not a Sunday appointment. He is not a religious habit. He is not an emergency contact when life collapses. He is King, Bridegroom, Savior, Master, and Lord.

So the question must come to us with trembling honesty:

Is Christ truly first in my life, or have I made Him convenient?

Jesus said in Matthew 6:33, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.”

The word that grips me is not only “seek.” It is first.

First means before my ambition. First means before my comfort. First means before my schedule. First means before my reputation. First means before my desires. First means before my convenience.

Yet how many times do we seek Him only after everything else has taken its place? We seek Him after work has drained us, after entertainment has distracted us, after worry has consumed us, after people have occupied us, after the world has exhausted us. Then, if there is still time, if there is still energy, if there is still emotional space, we give the Lord what remains.

But is that first?

I am not writing this as a man pointing a finger at the Church. I am writing as a man placing my own heart on the altar.

I have to ask myself: Do I love Him deeply, or do I simply believe in Him correctly? Do I pursue Him, or do I assume Him? Do I obey Him, or do I admire Him from a distance? Do I seek Him first, or only when my other priorities allow?

Because action speaks louder than words, even in Christianity.

Priority is always demonstrated by action. It is easy to say Christ is first. It is another thing to live in such a way that my time, choices, worship, obedience, surrender, and affection prove that He is first.

My calendar preaches. My habits preach. My private life preaches. My obedience preaches. The way I respond when the Lord interrupts my plans preaches.

Love, then, becomes a demonstration, not just something we casually talk about.

If I say I love Christ, that love must eventually become visible. It must be seen in my obedience, my surrender, my priorities, my worship, my decisions, and the way I order my life. Love that never moves me, never changes me, never interrupts me, and never causes me to lay anything down is not the kind of love Scripture calls me into.

Jesus did not merely speak love over us.

He demonstrated love toward us.

He gave everything.

So if His love was demonstrated through sacrifice, should my love not also be demonstrated through surrender? If His love moved Him toward the cross, should my love not move me toward obedience? If His love gave all, should my love offer only convenience?

We understand this in natural relationships. When a person deeply loves someone, that love becomes visible. They make time. They rearrange their schedule. They answer the call. They listen. They pursue. They think about the other person through the day. They are not satisfied with occasional contact. They desire closeness, communication, presence, and shared life.

When love is deep, convenience loses its throne.

A man in love does not say, “I will speak to her only if I have nothing else to do.” A woman in love does not say, “I will make room for him only if my schedule happens to open.” Deep love creates pursuit. Deep love creates sacrifice. Deep love makes another person precious enough to interrupt the ordinary flow of life.

So why do we understand this in romance, but sometimes refuse it in our relationship with Christ?

And even in human relationships, love can be taken for granted. What once moved us deeply can become familiar. What once caused us to pursue, sacrifice, cherish, and listen can slowly become assumed. The person who was once treated as precious can begin to feel common, not because their value changed, but because our attentiveness did.

If that can happen in human relationships, how much more must we guard our hearts in our relationship with the Lord?

Jesus did not love us casually. He did not love us conveniently. He did not give part of Himself and hold the rest back. Every drop of blood, every wound, every moment of suffering, every step toward the cross was love in action.

And why did He endure it?

Scripture says that for the joy set before Him, He endured the cross.

He saw the reward.

He saw sons and daughters restored to the Father. He saw forgiven sinners, cleansed hearts, broken chains, redeemed lives, and a bride made ready for the Bridegroom. He saw the eternal fruit of His suffering, and love carried Him through the cost.

So now I must ask myself:

Am I seeing the reward of Christianity?

Do I see Christ Himself as the reward? Do I see intimacy with Him as the treasure? Do I see surrender not as loss, but as entrance into true life? Do I see obedience not as restriction, but as the pathway of love? Do I see the Kingdom not as an obligation, but as the highest privilege of my existence?

If I do not see the reward, Christianity will always feel like a burden. I will measure how little I can give and still feel safe. I will ask how close I can stay to the world and still claim heaven. I will reduce my relationship with Christ to duties, habits, services, and religious language.

But when Christ becomes the reward, everything changes.

Prayer becomes communion. Worship becomes affection. Obedience becomes love responding to love. Surrender becomes the joyful laying down of lesser things for the One who is infinitely greater.

The question is not only, “Do I want to go to heaven?”

The deeper question is, “Do I want Him?”

Because heaven is not heaven without Christ. Eternal life is not merely endless existence. Eternal life is knowing Him. The reward of Christianity is not simply escaping hell, receiving blessings, or securing a future beyond death.

The reward is Jesus Himself.

And if He gave everything because He saw the reward of redeeming us, then surely I must ask whether I am willing to give everything because I see the reward of belonging to Him.

This is where modern Christianity must be careful. We must never reduce salvation to human performance, because we are saved by grace through faith, not by works. But we must also never reduce grace to a slogan that allows us to live unchanged.

Grace is not permission to be lukewarm.

Grace is power to be transformed.

That is why I become concerned when Christianity is presented as though a person can confess Christ once, then live the rest of their life with no hunger, no surrender, no repentance, no obedience, no fruit, no pursuit, and no holy fear of the Lord.

I know there are theological debates around eternal security, and I am not writing this to win an argument. I am writing to awaken a question.

Does my life demonstrate that I belong to Him?

Jesus gave warnings that should make every casual believer pause. He said there would be some who would say, “Lord, Lord,” and yet He would answer, “Depart from me, I never knew you.”

That is one of the most sobering statements in all of Scripture.

These were not people who lacked religious language. They knew what to call Him. They said, “Lord.” But something was missing.

He did not say, “I once knew you, but forgot you.”

He said, “I never knew you.”

That speaks of relationship. That speaks of intimacy. That speaks of the danger of having language without surrender, activity without communion, ministry without obedience, and religion without the knowledge of God.

That Scripture should not make us paranoid.

But it should make us honest.

Then there is the parable of the banquet. The invitation went out, but many who were invited made excuses. One had land to see. Another had oxen to test. Another had family matters. None of these things sounded evil on the surface. That is what makes the parable so piercing.

They were not rejecting the banquet because they hated it.

They were rejecting it because something else became more important.

That is the danger of convenient Christianity.

It rarely announces itself as rebellion. It usually hides behind legitimate responsibilities: work, family, business, plans, fatigue, success, opportunity, and personal goals. The issue is not always that these things are evil. The issue is that they can become first.

And when anything becomes first above Christ, it becomes a god.

The Lord said, “Thou shalt have no other gods before me.” Many of us assume that only refers to idols made of stone, wood, or gold. But an idol is anything that receives the trust, affection, obedience, attention, fear, and sacrifice that belong to God.

A career can become an idol. A relationship can become an idol. A ministry can become an idol. A dream can become an idol. A wound can become an idol. A fear can become an idol. Even comfort can become an idol.

And perhaps one of the most accepted idols in modern Christianity is convenience.

We want a Christ who blesses us but does not interrupt us. We want a Savior who forgives us but does not govern us. We want a Kingdom that benefits us but does not require us to seek it first.

But the God of Scripture is a consuming fire.

He does not come to occupy a small religious corner of our lives. He comes to fill the temple. He comes to cleanse the house. He comes to sit on the throne. He comes to claim what He purchased with His own blood.

And this is not cruelty.

This is love.

The Lord does not call us to surrender because He wants to diminish our lives. He calls us to surrender because everything outside of Him eventually destroys us. Every lesser god will disappoint us. Every false priority will drain us. Every idol will demand from us what only God can sustain.

Christ must be first because Christ alone is worthy of being first.

But there is another test of love that cannot be ignored.

One of the clearest demonstrations of my love for God is how I love people.

Scripture does not allow me to separate my love for God from my love for others. I cannot lift my hands in worship while keeping bitterness buried in my heart. I cannot say I love the Lord deeply while refusing to forgive those who have wounded me. I cannot claim intimacy with Christ while despising the very people He died to redeem.

The apostle John said it plainly: how can a man say he loves God, whom he has not seen, while hating his brother, whom he has seen?

That question reaches into the secret places of the heart.

So I must ask myself:

Where do I stand with those who have offended me?

Where do I stand with those who have betrayed me?

Where do I stand when people disappoint me, misunderstand me, reject me, or fail to respond the way I hoped they would?

Where do I stand when things do not go the right way in people’s lives, when relationships become complicated, when love is not returned the way I expected, when honor is not shown the way I believed it should have been shown?

This is where love is tested.

It is easy to speak about love in worship. It is harder to walk in love when my heart has been pierced. It is easy to declare devotion to Christ when music is playing. It is harder to demonstrate that devotion when I must forgive someone who never apologized, bless someone who misrepresented me, pray for someone who wounded me, or release someone who could not love me the way I desired.

But this is not optional Christianity.

Jesus did not love only those who understood Him. He did not love only those who honored Him. He loved while being rejected. He loved while being betrayed. He loved while being falsely accused. He loved from the cross while men gambled for His garments beneath Him.

If Christ’s love lives in me, then that love must govern how I respond to people.

This does not mean I deny pain. It does not mean I excuse sin. It does not mean I remove wisdom, boundaries, or discernment. But it does mean I refuse to let offense become my master. I refuse to let betrayal turn my heart cold. I refuse to let disappointment make me bitter.

Because loving God must eventually be seen in how I love people.

Not only the easy people. Not only the agreeable people. Not only the people who celebrate me. Not only the people who respond correctly.

But also the difficult ones, the wounded ones, the disappointing ones, and the ones who expose what is still unhealed inside me.

Love is not proven when everything goes my way.

Love is proven when Christ governs my heart even when nothing goes my way.

This is why I believe the Lord is calling His people back to first love. Not back to fear. Not back to condemnation. Not back to religious performance. Back to love. Real love. Burning love. Obedient love. Undivided love.

The kind of love that says, “Jesus, I do not want to take You for granted.”

Because familiarity can become dangerous when it produces casualness. We can become so used to the language of salvation that we lose the wonder of being saved. We can become so familiar with church that we lose the fear of the Lord. We can become so accustomed to grace that we forget the blood that purchased it.

But the cross should never become common to us.

The Son of God gave everything.

How then can I offer Him only convenience?

How can I give Him a distracted heart, a divided affection, a casual obedience, and call that love?

No.

He is worthy of my first. He is worthy of my best. He is worthy of my surrender. He is worthy of my attention. He is worthy of my obedience. He is worthy of my whole life.

So I am asking the Lord to search me. I am asking Him to expose every place where I have made Him secondary. I am asking Him to forgive me for every moment I treated His presence as optional. I am asking Him to restore in me the fire of first love.

And I pray that question comes to you as well, not as condemnation, but as mercy:

Do you deeply love Christ?

Because the door is still open. The banquet is still prepared. The King is still calling. The Spirit is still drawing. The Bridegroom is still worthy. The Father is still seeking those who will worship Him in spirit and in truth.

But we must come.

Not with excuses. Not with delay. Not with divided hearts. Not with convenient Christianity.

We must come with surrender.

We must come with hunger.

We must come with love.

The hour is too serious for casual faith. The glory of Christ is too great for leftover devotion. The love of God is too holy to be spoken of casually and never demonstrated.

May we not be those who were invited but too busy to come.

May we not be those who said, “Lord, Lord,” but never truly knew Him.

May we not be those who honored Him with our lips while our hearts were far from Him.

May we be those who seek first the Kingdom.

May we be those who love Him with all our heart, all our soul, all our mind, and all our strength.

May we be those whose love for God is demonstrated in how we surrender to Christ and how we love people.

May our lives say what our mouths confess:

Jesus, You are not my convenience.

You are my consuming fire.

You are my first love.

You are my Lord.

You are my life.

Declarations

I declare that Jesus Christ will not be a convenience in my life; He will be my highest priority.

I declare that my love for the Lord will be demonstrated not only by my words, but by my obedience, surrender, worship, and pursuit.

I declare that I will seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness.

I declare that every idol competing for the place of Christ in my heart must fall.

I declare that convenient Christianity will not define me.

I declare that the fire of first love is being restored in my heart.

I declare that my love for God will be demonstrated in how I love people, forgive people, bless people, and refuse to let offense, betrayal, or disappointment harden my heart.

I declare that I will see the reward of Christianity clearly: Christ Himself, the treasure above every treasure.

I declare that my life will not be built around convenience, but around surrender.

I declare that Christ is worthy of my first, my best, my all, and my everything.

And I declare that my life will answer the question:

Yes, Lord, I deeply love You.

Peter Nash