Romans 13:8

“Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for whoever loves others has fulfilled the law.” (Romans 13:8, NIV)

In Romans 13 Paul is writing about something that we all understand very well. Money. Paul’s instruction is simple; pay your taxes, pay what you owe, always settle your accounts. In short, clear your debts. Get square with people. But in the middle of this lesson on biblical stewardship he stops and says something life changing: Pay off everything you owe…except one debt. There’s one debt you will never pay off. The debt of love. This isn’t poetic language. This is the most practical instruction you could receive about how to live a life that doesn’t corrode and rot from the inside out. Here’s what most of us do in relationships: we keep a ledger. We’re not always conscious of it, but it’s there. I did this for you. You didn’t do that for me. I gave you grace. You gave me criticism. I showed up. You were absent. And over time, that ledger becomes a weight on the soul. The imbalance grows. The resentment builds. And eventually, bitterness takes root.

This happens in marriages. A spouse serves faithfully for years, and the other spouse takes it for granted. The serving spouse begins to think, I’ve given so much. When is it my turn to receive? And when that reciprocation doesn’t come, disappointment hardens into bitterness. It happens in friendships. You show up for someone through their crisis. You listen to their problems. You offer counsel and support. And then when you’re struggling, that friend is nowhere to be found. The imbalance stings. The hurt deepens. It happens in church. A pastor pours out his life—counseling the hurting, praying for the sick, preparing sermons, visiting the lonely. And then criticism comes. Gossip spreads. People who were supposed to be brothers and sisters in Christ turn on him. The weight of that betrayal can crush a soul. It happens in families. Parents sacrifice for their children for decades. And sometimes those children grow up and never acknowledge the cost. They never understand what was given up. The parent waits for gratitude that may never come. And here’s where most people break: they stop giving. They say, “I’ve given enough. Now it’s their turn.” They pull back. They protect themselves. They harden their hearts. And in doing so, they become bitter.

But Paul offers a different way. Not only is there a debt that you can never pay off, it is a debt that we actually owe to others.  A debt that should always remain outstanding. The debt of love. Think about what love actually is. Love is not transactional. Love is not conditional. Love is not keeping score. Love is what God does. God doesn’t love you because you’ve earned it. God doesn’t love you because you’re lovable. God loves you while you’re still a sinner. God loves you before you ever loved Him back. God loves you with a love that cost Him everything—the life of His own Son—and He asks for nothing in return except that you receive it. That’s the love Paul is talking about. That’s the love you’re called to live. When you understand that you’ve been loved like that—infinitely, sacrificially, unconditionally—you can’t help but recognize that you will never be able to repay that love to God. You can’t give Him anything He doesn’t already have. You can’t do anything that would make Him love you more or less. That debt is eternal. It’s un-payable. And that’s exactly as it should be.

And because you can’t repay that debt to God, you extend it to others. You give love that you don’t expect to get back. You show grace that may never be reciprocated. You offer forgiveness that might be thrown back in your face. You serve people who may never acknowledge your service. Why? Because you’re no longer keeping a ledger. You’re no longer waiting for your investment to pay dividends. You’re simply responding to the love you’ve already received from God by passing it on. This is what Paul means by the “continuing debt.” It’s not a debt that diminishes over time. It’s a debt that grows. The more you love, the more you realize how much more love is needed. The more you give, the more you see how much more you have to give. The more you forgive, the more you understand how much forgiveness we all need.

It’s a beautiful, endless cycle of grace.

I made a very important decision many years ago.  One that has kept me faithful in ministry despite all manner of mistreatment: I have decided that I will always give more than I receive in every relationship.  And because of that, I have been protected from bitterness and resentment. Think about it. If I go into a relationship expecting reciprocation—expecting that if I love someone, they’ll love me back; if I serve them, they’ll serve me; if I show them grace, they’ll show me grace—then I’m vulnerable. The moment they fail to reciprocate, I’m disappointed. The moment they betray me, I’m devastated. The moment they gossip about me after I’ve poured my life into them, I’m crushed. But if I go into a relationship knowing that I’m going to give more love, more grace, more forgiveness than I’ll ever receive in return, then I’m free. I’m not waiting for them to come through. I’m not dependent on their response. I’m simply loving them the way God loves me. Does it hurt when someone mistreats you? Of course. Does it sting when someone you’ve served turns on you? Absolutely. But it doesn’t destroy you and it doesn’t cause you to turn on them. Because you’re not building your emotional survival on their reciprocation. You’re building it on the love of God that you’ve already received and that you’re freely giving away.

This is not weakness. This is not naiveté. This is not allowing people to walk all over you. This is spiritual maturity. This is understanding that your peace doesn’t depend on people treating you fairly. Your peace depends on you treating people with love, regardless of how they treat you. A true disciple is known by this. Not by how much they receive. Not by how well they’re treated. But by how well they love. By how they forgive. By how they keep giving even when they’re not getting back.

But I need to tell you the hard truth: loving like this is costly.

When you decide to give more love than you receive, you will be taken advantage of. Someone will use your kindness. Someone will mistake your grace for weakness. Someone will gossip about you despite your faithfulness. Someone will hurt you despite your love. That’s not a maybe. That’s a certainty. Because we live in a fallen world, and there are people who don’t know how to receive love without exploiting it. There are people who will see your generosity and take it for granted. There are people who will interpret your forgiveness as permission to keep sinning. And when that happens, you have a choice. You can harden your heart and stop giving. You can pull back and protect yourself. You can keep score and demand reciprocation. You can become bitter. Or you can remember the cross. You can remember that Jesus loved people who didn’t love Him back. You can remember that Jesus forgave people who didn’t ask for forgiveness. You can remember that Jesus gave everything for people who would reject Him, deny Him, and crucify Him.

And you can choose to love anyway.

This is the hard truth of the gospel. It’s not comfortable. It’s not safe. It’s not what the world teaches you. The world teaches you to protect yourself. The world teaches you to keep score. The world teaches you to demand reciprocation. But Jesus teaches you to love. To forgive. To give. To serve. To lay down your life for others. And the only way to do that without becoming bitter is to understand that you’re not doing it to get something back. You’re doing it because you’ve already received everything. You’ve already been loved more than you could ever deserve. And now you’re simply passing it on.

So I’m asking you this week: Are you keeping a ledger? Are you waiting for reciprocation? Are you protecting yourself by pulling back your love? If you are, I want to invite you to something different. I want to invite you to the freedom of the endless debt. I want to invite you to stop counting and start giving. I want to invite you to love people more than they deserve, to forgive people more than they ask, to serve people more than they acknowledge. It will cost you. It will hurt sometimes. But it will also set you free. Free from bitterness. Free from resentment. Free from the exhausting work of keeping score. Free to love the way God loves you. That’s the debt that never gets paid off. And thank God for that. Because the day you finish paying it is the day you stop growing in grace.

Yours in Christ, 

Pastor John