When Love Became My Cornerstone

There was a time in my life when I had to take my faith apart.

Not because I wanted to walk away from God.

Actually, I think it was because I was trying so hard to find Him.

Faith deconstruction can sound scary. It can sound rebellious or careless or like someone is trying to tear down everything sacred. But for me, it felt more like survival. Like I was standing inside a house I had lived in my whole life, realizing some of the walls were keeping me safe, and some of them were keeping me from seeing Jesus clearly.

And I didn’t know which was which.

So I started asking questions.

Not loud, angry questions at first. More like quiet, trembling ones.

Does this belief bring me closer to Christ?

Does this teaching help me love God more?

Does this rule help me love people better?

Does this feel like Jesus?

And honestly, a lot of those memories were painful.

There is grief in questioning things you once felt certain about.

There is loneliness when the answers don’t come quickly.

There is fear when you wonder if the people around you will misunderstand your wrestling.

And maybe the hardest part was wondering if God was disappointed in me for asking.

But as I tore down walls, one thing stayed.

Love.

That became my cornerstone.

Not fear.

Not appearances.

Not who was in or who was out.

Love.

The kind of love Jesus offered to the woman at the well.

The kind of love He showed the leper when He reached out and touched him.

The kind of love He gave to the people sitting on the edges, the misunderstood, the judged, the messy, the ones religion often struggled to make room for.

Jesus never seemed threatened by compassion.

He never withheld connection until someone became perfect.

He sat at tables with people others avoided.

He made people feel seen before He made them feel corrected.

And now, whenever I hear a teaching or a “rule,” I find myself holding it up against that cornerstone.

Love.

Does this lead me to more compassion?

Does this make me more humble?

Does this help me see people the way Jesus sees them?

Does this create more light, more mercy, more room at the table?

I don’t think following Jesus’ example of love and compassion means we will always know exactly what to do. I don’t think it means we will never feel uncomfortable. Sometimes love is very uncomfortable. Sometimes it asks us to listen longer than we want to. Sometimes it asks us to stay soft when it would feel easier to become certain and sharp.

Sometimes love costs us the wall we were hiding behind.

But I keep thinking that Jesus was never in a hurry to exclude people.

He was always moving toward them.

Toward the sick.

Toward the ashamed.

Toward the sinner.

Toward the one everyone else had already labeled.

And maybe following Him means I have to be willing to move toward people too.

To listen.

To stay curious.

To offer belonging before agreement.

To let compassion be louder than my need to be right.

I don’t have everything figured out...perhaps I never will.

But I do know this.

If I stand before Jesus someday, I don’t think I will regret loving people too much.

I think love was always the point.