Love One Another

“If y’all haven’t got this by now, let Me just tell ya again what I’m expectin’ of ya. Here it is: The main thing is that y’all love one another just like I have loved you”
—John 15:12 (The Gospel of John Cowboy Style).

If we’re honest, loving people the way Jesus loves us might just be one of the toughest trails we ever ride. It’s easy enough to quote the verse, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” but the tough part comes when we remember Jesus wasn’t talkin’ about the nice neighbor who brings peach cobbler to the church potluck. He meant everybody—the easy ones, the difficult ones, and even the ones who rub our fur the wrong way.

Truth is, loving folks can be a downright sacrifice.

Some people we take to right away—they’re gentle, thoughtful, easy to be around. Others… well, they come at you sideways. They’re prickly, moody, or just plain aggravatin’. But Jesus didn’t divide people into “likable” and “unlikable.” He simply said, “Love them like I love you.”

That’s a mighty tall order.

Back in my seminary days, I worked a summer job on a dairy farm to help pay the bills. Now, milking ninety head of Holstein cattle twice a day will teach a man more lessons than any classroom ever could.

Some of those cows were sweet as sorghum molasses—gentle, patient, standin’ right where you wanted ’em. I liked those gals. I even gave ’em pet names. But some of the others? Mercy. They were cantankerous, kickin’, tail-smackin’, head-slingin’ bundles of attitude. I didn’t like them one bit. And yes sir, I gave them names too… they just weren’t exactly Sunday-school approved.

But something happened as the days turned into weeks.

As I worked with those hard-to-love cows, got used to their quirks, learned their patterns, and saw ’em for what they were—creatures with their own temperaments and fears—something in me began to shift. It wasn’t that the cows changed. They acted the same as the first day I met ’em.

But I changed.

And wouldn’t you know it, the more I understood them, the easier it was to accept them. And once acceptance took root, a strange thing happened—affection wasn’t far behind.

That summer, knee-deep in hay and Holsteins, the Lord taught me a lesson about people:

We don’t always get to choose who’s easy to love. But we do get to choose whether we’ll stay open long enough to understand them.

If we’ll lean in, listen, observe, and remember that everyone’s carryin’ hidden burdens we can’t see, we just might find the same thing I found in that barn—our hearts soften, not because they changed… but because we did.

And that’s exactly the kind of love Jesus is talkin’ about. Not love measured by our comfort, but measured by His example.

Trail Marker

Love ain’t about how easy a person is to get along with — it’s about lettin’ Jesus stretch your heart wide enough to hold folks just as they are, the same way He holds you.

Campfire Musing

Who in my life is difficult to love—and what step can I take this week to understand them a little better, the way Jesus understands me?

Prayer from the Trail

Lord Jesus, You sure have loved me with patience, mercy, and grace I didn’t deserve. Help me ride that same trail with others. Open my eyes to see folks the way You see ’em. Soften my heart toward the ones who are hard to handle, and teach me how to love not by my own strength, but by Yours. Guide my steps today, and make me an instrument of Your grace on this dusty stretch of trail. In Your name I pray, Amen.