Dangerous Love: The Radical Call to Risk
Learning to Love Series: The Challenges of Loving Like Jesus
I thought I was good at "loving," but the more I delve into stories I have known for decades, the more I discover how far I am from true love.
This series of posts is recording my journey of relearning and trying to turn the theory into tangible action!
How to Love our Betrayers
Moving Out of Survival Mode
To make space for a betrayer to become someone new is perhaps the highest, most difficult form of love because it requires immense vulnerability. When you hold the door open for someone who has burned you, you risk getting burned again.
Peter's betrayal was born out of fear and weakness, not malice. He denied knowing Jesus three times to save his own skin. After the resurrection, Jesus doesn't shame Peter. Instead, for every denial, Jesus offers an opportunity for restoration, ending with: "Feed my sheep." He traded Peter's shame for a new mission. The risk resulted in a beautiful new narrative and a changed destiny. (Read more here: By The Fire: Recovering from Failure)
The ultimate expression of spiritual maturity isn't just surviving a wound—it is refusing to let the betrayer's past define their future (and yours!), offering them the grace of a blank page. It shifts the internal posture from "What did you do to me?" to "Who can we become after this?"
In our human economy of relationships, we demand a sequence:
You hurt me.
You must realise what you did, feel broken, and earn my trust back.
Then, and only then, (if I think you have proven yourself enough) will I perhaps hesitantly consider moving toward you.
Jesus inverts this order. He initiates before the restoration is guaranteed.
He moved to change the narrative for you before you ever turned towards Him!
Why This Kind of Love Feels Impossible
Trust is the most fragile part of love.
We can visualise trust as a glass vase: once shattered, even if you glue it back together, the cracks are always visible, and it may never hold water the same way again.
When trust is broken, our natural instinct is to weaponise our distance to protect ourselves. We think, "If I move toward you too quickly, I am validating what you did, or exposing myself to more pain. "
Restoring broken trust isn't about waiting for the other person to become trustworthy again. It is about having the radical, divine courage to offer them the space to become trustworthy - moving towards trust when they least deserve it.
Protecting Myself
When I think about those who have betrayed me, there is resistance to move towards restoration, and I fail to believe they are capable of living or choosing differently—I honestly don't really give them that opportunity.
When someone betrays you, your brain and your heart register that person as unsafe. Believing they are incapable of choosing differently is a valid psychological defence mechanism. It is your soul's way of saying, "If I accept that they will always be like this, I can keep my guard up, stay far away, and ensure I never get hurt by them again."
If someone has consistently shown themselves to be deceitful, selfish, or careless with our hearts, logic dictates that the past predicts the future. Expecting them to change feels foolish.
My heart is so resistant to daring to risk again.
The Hardest Truth: Grace is a Gift, Not a Guarantee
We are moving this conversation past personal healing (not becoming bitter) and into relational redemption (co-authoring a new future). This is the difference between passive forgiveness and active reconciliation.
Passive forgiveness says, "I release you from my debt so I can be free." Active reconciliation says, "I am actively holding open a door for you to walk through as a changed person, if you choose to."
This radical approach is incredibly beautiful, but it is also the most dangerous way to love. When you extend this kind of proactive grace, you are offering the opportunity for a new narrative, but you cannot force the other person to write it with you.
That's a big responsibility and an unknown risk to work with.
Creating a Redemptive Space for Change
To create a redemptive space for someone, you have to lower the very shield that is keeping you safe temporarily. It means risking your peace all over again on the gamble that they might, or might not, (or might now) choose a different narrative this time.
I am extremely challenged by this level of loving - it means loving God and His kingdom more than my need to be right, to receive an apology or even see any form of justice.
Can you look at the person who hurt you and whisper: "I am willing to stop holding your past against your potential future. I am choosing to leave the door open for a different narrative."
Can you start to pray for them differently, without the labels and definitions you have become familiar with using and believe for transformation?
It is a dangerous way to relearn how to love!
The Wellspring is a blog and resource hub with encouragement and resources for personal growth and impact in the communities where you live.
Please SUBSCRIBE to receive emails to your inbox with the latest posts, personal messages, and links to leadership and personal growth resources.
Comments