“Love One Another”

Church family, over the last several weeks we’ve walked through Paul’s letter to the Colossians under the banner Christ Above All. We’ve seen that Jesus isn’t just an inspiring figure or a Sunday subject—he is the center of everything. Every breath, every atom, every heartbeat exists through him and for him.

But here’s where that truth now meets our everyday lives: if Christ is truly above all, he must also be among us. His greatness doesn’t stay locked up in theology; it gets lived out in community. When the world in Midland looks at us—how we treat one another, how we speak, how we forgive—they should catch a glimpse of what it’s like when Christ reigns in human hearts.

Today we begin a new series, One Another. It is going to explore what it actually looks like for Jesus to reign in our hearts. And today we begin right where Jesus began—with love. “A new commandment I give to you,” he said, “that you love one another.”

Now, I realize the word love can sound soft, even sentimental. We use it for everything from “I love my wife” to “I love Whataburger.” But Jesus wasn’t talking about warm feelings or Hallmark moments. He was talking about a love that rolls up its sleeves, a love that kneels down with a towel, a love that keeps showing up when it would be easier to walk away.

If you think about it, our world is starving for that kind of love. Just look at the news—anger sells better than compassion. We scroll through outrage, we argue over politics, and then we wonder why everyone’s lonely. Even in the church, wounds linger. Some of us carry hurts from past leadership, or from words that were said—or not said.

And yet, loved ones, this is exactly where the gospel shines brightest. Jesus told his disciples, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” That’s the mark, the proof, the visible evidence that Christ is real in us.

So as we begin this series, we’re not just learning new commands—we’re inviting Jesus to reshape our hearts, our relationships, and our reputation as his people here in Midland.

Now, something I want to acknowledge here at the outset—love sounds beautiful until you have to do it.

It’s one thing to sing about love on Sunday morning; it’s another to live it out when someone’s hurt you, disappointed you, or just plain rubbed you the wrong way. We know that, don’t we? Loving people can be messy. Even in a good, healthy church, relationships can fray. And for some of you, that’s not theoretical—you’ve got the scars to prove it.

Some of you have seen leaders fail you. Some have felt overlooked or unheard. Others have poured themselves into ministry and been met with criticism instead of gratitude. And if you’re honest, maybe you’ve built a little wall in your heart—not because you want to, but because it feels safer.

But here’s the tension: Jesus said that love for one another is how the world knows we belong to him. So if our love breaks down, what story are we telling Midland about our Savior?

We live in a culture that’s already quick to divide—politically, socially, even digitally. Every headline seems to ask, “Whose side are you on?” And if we’re not careful, that same spirit can creep into the church. We can start treating one another like opponents instead of family.

Yet right here, in this command to “love one another,” Jesus calls us to something radically different—to love in a way that doesn’t make sense apart from him.

And that’s what makes this series so important. Because before we talk about serving or forgiving or bearing burdens, we have to face the hardest truth of all: we can’t love one another in our own strength.

The Source of Love — “As I Have Loved You”

Before Jesus ever tells his disciples to love one another, he anchors that command in his own love for them. That order matters deeply. Because if we skip it—if we try to love others without first being rooted in his love—we’ll run dry before lunch on Monday.

When Jesus says, “As I have loved you,” he’s not giving a Hallmark sentiment. He’s pointing back to what he’s just done and forward to what he’s about to do. Just moments before he said this, the Son of God got up from the table, wrapped a towel around his waist, and knelt down to wash his disciples’ feet. That was the job of a servant, not a Savior. Yet that’s how he loved them—by taking the lowest place.

And even as he dried their feet, he knew one of those feet would walk out to betray him. Another would run in fear. The rest would scatter in confusion. Still, he loved them. Loved them knowing their weakness. Loved them knowing their failure. That’s the love of Christ.

Then, a few hours later, that same love walked up a hill called Calvary. The hands that washed dirty feet were stretched out and nailed to a cross. The One who had every right to judge chose instead to bear judgment in our place.

So when Jesus says, “As I have loved you,” he’s defining love not by emotion but by sacrifice. Not by convenience but by commitment. His love wasn’t reactive; it was proactive. He didn’t love because we were lovable—he loved to make us lovable.

Church family, that’s where all genuine love begins—not in our effort, but in our experience of Christ. You can’t pour out what you haven’t first received. You can’t sustain love for difficult people if you’re not continually drinking from the well of Christ’s love for you.

Parents, you know this with your kids. A child who’s secure in your love acts differently. They share more freely, trust more easily, rest more peacefully. But when they feel uncertain—when love feels like something they have to earn—they get defensive. They hoard, they hide, they lash out. And isn’t that what happens to us when we forget how much Jesus loves us? We start protecting ourselves instead of serving others. We get stingy with grace. We become quick to take offense and slow to forgive.

But when you’re confident in his love—when you’ve really tasted the mercy that met you at your worst—you start to see people differently. You start to realize: “If Jesus could love me, then no one is beyond my love.”

That’s why Paul later wrote in

Romans 5:8 ESV

but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

He didn’t wait for us to clean up, show up, or grow up. He came to us in our mess.

And that, church family, is the source of our love. We don’t love others to earn God’s approval; we love because we already have it. We don’t love to impress Jesus; we love because Jesus has impressed his love upon our hearts.

So before we start talking about loving others better, let’s sit here for a moment and remember: the same Jesus who washed feet, who bore nails, who conquered death—he loves you. Personally. Patiently. Perfectly.

And if you think about it, that truth alone could change the culture of a church. Because when a people live like they’re loved by Christ, they can’t help but love one another.

The Shape of Love — “Love One Another”

Now that we’ve seen the source of love—as I have loved you—Jesus turns the command toward us: “So you also are to love one another.”

This isn’t an optional suggestion. It’s not a “try your best” kind of verse. Jesus isn’t inviting his disciples to a new hobby; he’s calling them into a new way of life. The verb here—love one another—is a present command. It’s continual. It means “keep on loving.” It’s not “love once and you’re done.” It’s love that endures through seasons, through disappointments, through people’s rough edges.

What makes this command so stunning is when Jesus gave it. He said these words after Judas had left the room to betray him. He knew Peter would deny him in just a few hours. He knew the rest would scatter in fear. Yet Jesus still said, “Love one another.”

If I were writing the script, that’s not what I would’ve said in that moment. I would’ve given a lecture about loyalty. I would’ve said, “Can’t y’all just hold it together for one night?” But not Jesus. In his moment of greatest vulnerability, he spoke about love. Why? Because Jesus wanted his followers to be known not by their performance but by their relationship—by the way they loved.

And notice the direction of that love. Jesus didn’t say, “Love me more”—though we should. He said, “Love one another.” It’s horizontal. It moves outward, from disciple to disciple, heart to heart, life to life.

That means Christianity was never meant to be a solo project. You can’t obey this verse in isolation. The “one anothers” of Scripture only make sense in community. That’s why we gather. That’s why we serve. That’s why we open our homes and our hearts to one another.

But this kind of love isn’t just about being nice. It’s about being committed. It’s the kind of love that stays. It shows up. It forgives. It perseveres. It looks like a friend who keeps calling when life gets hard. It looks like a church member who prays for someone who’s drifted away. It looks like someone sitting beside a hospital bed or dropping off a meal after surgery.

That’s what it looks like when love takes shape in a church—it becomes tangible. You can feel it in the hallways, hear it in the laughter, and see it in the way people care for one another.

And here’s the beautiful thing: love like that glorifies God. In John’s Gospel, love and glory always travel together. When Jesus served his disciples, he said, “Now is the Son of Man glorified.” In other words, love was his glory on display. And when we love one another, we reflect that same glory to the world.

Now, I’m still learning Midland. We’re a people who take pride in pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps. We admire hard work, grit, and independence—and there’s good in that. But if we’re not careful, that same independence can make it hard to depend on each other. Yet Jesus didn’t say, “Be self-sufficient.” He said, “Be loving.” He designed the church to be a family, not a job site—where grace replaces performance and love replaces pride.

So, church family, the shape of love isn’t found in grand gestures; it’s found in daily obedience. Love looks like choosing patience instead of irritation, forgiveness instead of resentment, presence instead of distance.

This is how Jesus builds his church—not through programs or platforms, but through people who actually love one another.

The Sign of Love — “By This All People Will Know”

(John 13:35)

Jesus closes this teaching with a breathtaking statement: “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Think about that. Jesus could have chosen anything to mark his followers. He could’ve said, “By your preaching they’ll know,” or “By your worship they’ll know,” or “By your theology they’ll know.” All of those things matter—but Jesus says the unmistakable evidence of discipleship is love.

By this—by your love—all people will know. That means the way we treat one another inside the church is a public testimony outside the church. The watching world is always reading our relationships. They’re learning what we believe about Jesus by the way we behave toward each other.

That’s sobering, isn’t it? Because it means when we love well, we give the world a glimpse of Christ. But when we fail to love, we give the world ammunition to doubt him.

I don’t say that to shame us, church family, but to remind us how high the calling is. Jesus has tied his reputation to the way his people love.

And here’s what’s remarkable—he said these words not to a megachurch, not to a movement with a marketing team, but to eleven ordinary men in a borrowed room. A small, imperfect group that would change the world because they loved one another with Christ’s love.

That same possibility exists for us right here in Midland.

People around us aren’t looking for a perfect church; they’re looking for a genuine one. They want to see if the gospel we talk about on Sunday works on Monday—at the job site, at the kitchen table, in the school pick-up line. When they see believers forgiving one another, encouraging one another, carrying each other’s burdens, they start to wonder, “What kind of love is that?”

I think about the times I’ve already seen our church has shown that love—meals delivered after surgeries, prayers whispered at hospital beds, families helped in times of loss. Those moments preach louder than any sermon I could give. They tell Midland that Jesus is real, and his people are different.

And it’s that difference—the difference love makes—that draws people to him.

We live in a world where everything is polarized. Cable news, social media, even family gatherings can feel like battlefields. But the church is meant to be an alternative—a community that breaks the pattern by loving across differences, forgiving where others cancel, and embracing where others exclude.

Jesus says that kind of love will make people know. Not guess, not wonder—know—that we belong to him.

That’s the sign of true discipleship. Not just church attendance or doctrinal precision, but love in action. When the world looks at a church like ours and sees unity where there was division, grace where there was gossip, compassion where there was coldness—that’s the proof.

Loved ones, this is why we can’t take this command lightly. The world won’t be convinced by our arguments; they’ll be converted by God’s love flowing through us.

So what story are we telling Midland?

When people drive past Fannin Terrace Baptist Church, when they meet one of us in the grocery store or at a football game, will they encounter a people who love one another the way Christ loved us?

That’s the call. That’s the sign. That’s the kind of love that can’t be explained apart from Jesus.

So how do we take this command off the page and live it out right here, in our church family, in Midland?

Let me give you three simple ways that love takes shape among us—three verbs that capture the movement of gospel-shaped love: show up, build up, and lift up.

Show up.

Love begins with presence. You can’t love one another if you’re never with one another. In a busy world, presence is one of the rarest gifts we can give. Show up in worship, show up in your Sunday School class, show up when someone is hurting. When you’re at the hospital praying with a friend, or sitting in silence beside someone who’s grieving, that’s love in action. Presence says, “You matter enough for me to stop what I’m doing.”

Midland life moves fast. Oilfield hours, kids’ sports, commutes—it’s easy to get so stretched that we only wave to each other in the hallway. But the church doesn’t thrive on drive-by relationships. It grows when we slow down and show up.

Build up.

Love speaks words that strengthen. The Bible tells us: “Let everything you say be for building up.” That means we watch our tone, our timing, and our talk. A loving church is full of voices that cheer more than criticize. When someone takes a step of faith, say so. When someone struggles, speak grace instead of gossip.

Sometimes the most Christlike thing you can do is send a text that says, “I’m proud of you,” or, “I’m praying for you.” Words shape culture. Imagine if every hallway conversation at Fannin Terrace ended with encouragement instead of complaint. That would sound like heaven.

Lift up.

Love doesn’t ignore burdens—it shares them. Galatians 6:2 says, “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” That might mean helping with groceries for a single parent, praying for someone walking through illness, or forgiving someone who hurt you. It’s costly, but so was the cross.

When we start living this way, love becomes contagious. People notice. Newcomers walk in and sense that something real is happening here. The walls that once divided start to come down. The old hurts begin to heal. And suddenly, the love of Christ isn’t just a sermon point—it’s the story we’re living together. Because

Christ’s love for us becomes Christ’s love through us.

So, church family, let’s be that kind of people. Let’s show up for one another, build up one another, and lift up one another—until Midland can’t help but see Jesus among us.

Church family, I know this kind of love sounds beautiful—and hard. It’s beautiful because it reflects Jesus, but it’s hard because it costs something. It costs pride, time, convenience, and sometimes even the right to be right.

But the good news is this: Jesus never commands what he doesn’t empower. The same Savior who said, “Love one another,” also said, “As I have loved you.” His love isn’t just our example—it’s our energy.

You see, the gospel doesn’t start with us trying harder to love. It starts with God loving us first. That’s the story of the cross. While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. He loved us when we were at our worst, when we were unlovable, when we had nothing to offer in return.

And if you’ve ever truly experienced that kind of love—love that forgives, that stays, that covers shame—you know it changes you. It softens hard hearts. It humbles proud ones. It heals wounded ones.

Some of you came to faith because someone loved you like that. They didn’t just invite you to church; they walked with you. They cared about your family. They prayed for you when you didn’t know how to pray for yourself. And if you think about it, that’s the ripple effect Jesus had in mind. The love that reached you was never meant to stop with you—it’s meant to flow through you.

When the world sees that kind of love, they see Jesus. Not a religion. Not a set of rules. A Person—living and loving through his people.

Imagine a church where that’s the reputation. Where forgiveness flows faster than gossip. Where encouragement is louder than criticism. Where people look out for each other—not because they’re perfect, but because they’re family.

That’s the kind of church Jesus envisioned when he said, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples.”

And the good news is, we don’t have to manufacture that love—it’s already been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit. We simply need to let it flow.

Loved ones, this world is weary. People are hurting, cynical, lonely. But Christ’s love, shining through his church, can still melt hearts and change lives. It changed ours.

So when we love one another, we are joining God in his great work of redemption. We’re showing Midland that Jesus is alive—not just because we sing about him, but because we love like him.

So church family, here’s where it all comes together. Jesus didn’t give this command to fill our heads; he gave it to transform our hearts. Love one another isn’t just a slogan for a sermon—it’s a call to embody the gospel in our everyday lives.

Maybe today, someone here needs to receive that love for the first time. You’ve known about Jesus, but you’ve never really known his love—never trusted him to forgive, to save, to call you his own. Friend, he went to the cross for you. He rose again so you could live forgiven, free, and full of his love. You can come to him right now.

And maybe others of us need to extend that love again. There’s a relationship that’s gone cold, a wound that hasn’t healed, a person you’ve quietly avoided. What if love started there? What if we stopped waiting for someone else to move first and decided, “As Christ has loved me, so I will love them”?

Because the truth is, this is where revival begins—not with a program or a personality, but with a people who love one another deeply.

So let’s make that our prayer today: “Lord, let Your love begin here—in my heart, in my home, in this church, and through us to Midland and beyond.”

Because church family, here’s the bottom line: Christ’s love for us becomes Christ’s love through us.

When that happens, we don’t just talk about the gospel—we live it. And the world takes notice.