Sermon – Can Love Be Commanded?
Sermon Preached by Reverend Tracey Gracey on Sunday, 18 May, 2025
John 13:31–35
Can we really be commanded to love?
When many of us experience or desire love as a feeling—
which is deeply personal, heartfelt, emotional and exciting—
Can we really be commanded to love?
When many of us know that we cannot force someone to love us, that we can’t demand affection or devotion from anyone—
And yet, in today’s Gospel reading,
Jesus is commanding us to love one another.
Not suggesting it. Not recommending it.
But commanding it.
His language is direct.
He doesn’t say, “Give it a go and see if you can love like I have.”
He doesn’t say, “Just try a little harder to love as I have.”
He says, “You SHOULD love one another.”
And that challenges me—because in my training as a spiritual director and supervisor, we’ve been taught to listen carefully when someone uses the word should.
Should often carries guilt.
It assumes failure.
It implies that we’re not doing enough,
or that we ought to be better.
So why the strong language from Jesus?
We often gain a deeper understanding of a text when we consider the context surrounding the verses—by paying attention to what has happened before and what comes after the passage.
At the beginning of this chapter, Jesus had knelt before his
disciples and washed their feet. It was an act of humility, service,
and tenderness—completely unexpected from a teacher, let alone someone they had come to call Lord.
It wasn’t just a gesture of hospitality;
it was a redefinition of leadership.
Jesus showed them—not with theory, but with water and touch—what love looks like in acts of service.
And then—just as the disciples are still trying to take that in—
Judas leaves the room. Quietly. Into the night.
The betrayal has been set in motion.
It’s there, in that charged silence after Judas leaves, that Jesus says:
“Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him.”
That word NOW matters.
Jesus doesn’t speak of glory after the resurrection, or once everything turns out well.
He speaks of it at the very moment things begin to unravel.
In the act of betrayal.
This is the turning point.
The hour he’s spoken of again and again in John’s Gospel has finally come.
But this glory isn’t about triumph in the usual sense.
Jesus’ glory is not about success, fame, power, strength or being admired.
It’s about revealing God’s love in its most costly form—
love that serves, love that stays, love that will go all the way to the cross, which is what follows on after Jesus’ final words in the following chapters.
So when Jesus then turns and says,
“Little children, I am with you only a little longer…
love one another as I have loved you,” —he’s not giving advice.
He’s pointing them toward the only thing that will hold them together once he is gone: the love they share in his name.
Love isn’t a suggestion—it’s the way of life Jesus calls the disciples into.
When the disciples love as he has loved them, they reflect his glory, and in doing so, they glorify God.
This love isn’t the kind of love we desire to keep for ourselves—
it’s made to be given.
It is shared, offered freely, and often comes at a cost.
It is a love that gives itself for the sake of another.
The command to love wasn’t new.
Jesus was deeply aware of the Old Testament’s clear commands to love:
• “Love the Lord your God…” (Deuteronomy 6:5)
• “Love your neighbour as yourself…” (Leviticus 19:18)
But what is new in Jesus’ command is to love:
“As I have loved you.”
Jesus deepens the meaning.
This is no longer about loving others as you love yourself—
because let’s face it, we don’t always love ourselves well.
Now it’s:
Love as I have loved you.
Sacrificially. Unconditionally. Consistently.
And the Greek word used here for love is agapē—not romantic,
not just friendly, not sentimental.
But love as a way of life.
Love as action.
And that’s why Jesus can command it.
Because in his teaching, love isn’t a feeling—it’s a way of being.
So… can love be commanded?
Yes—when love is not just emotion, but intention.
When love is not a fleeting feeling, but a deliberate way of showing up in our life.
Love is the shape and foundation of discipleship.
And when we live this kind of love, we reflect the love that Jesus lived for us.
Maybe that’s where Jesus’ SHOULD starts to make sense.
Not as pressure. Not as guilt.
But as a calling.
A way of life that’s too important to leave to chance or feeling.
A should that doesn’t weigh us down—but lifts us into something deeper, something bigger than ourselves.
When we serve without seeking praise,
When we remain present in pain,
When we forgive when it would be easier to walk away—
That is love as Jesus loved.
That is glory revealed.
And that is the love the world still longs to see in us.
So let it begin—not just in our hearts,
but in our hands,
our words,
our choices,
our relationships—
so that love becomes the command we follow
and the action we live out every day.