Jesus Loved, and He Bled: What It Costs to Love Like Him
Jesus loved without a ledger — nothing held back, nothing expected in return. Loving like Him will cost you; remembering how He loved makes it possible. Friends, go and love like Jesus!
“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” — John 15:12–13 (ESV)
How did Jesus love? He died. He laid down His life. He loved, and He bled. Before we romanticize love, we must recognize this: the truest love ever shown cost everything. In other words, love isn’t measured by what we feel — it’s measured by what we’re willing to give up.
And holding that kind of love up against the way I love exposes something in me I don’t like to admit. When I love someone, there’s almost always a subtle pull for something in return. I love, and somewhere beneath it all, a quiet ledger is running: I showed up, so I hope they’ll show up for me. I gave, so surely I’ll get. The transaction is almost always there. We call it love, but much of what we do is really an exchange. I’m being honest about that because I doubt I’m the only one. So sit with it for a moment: when you love, is a ledger running for you, too?
Jesus didn’t love that way. “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:12–13, ESV). He loved without a ledger, without expecting a return, without any guarantee we’d ever love Him back. He laid down His life for people who were still His enemies. That’s everything given, with nothing expected back. To love like that — no scorecard, no strings, nothing owed — is almost unfathomable to us.
And look at what the Father did with that love. “Therefore, God elevated him to the place of highest honor and gave him the name above all other names, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue declare that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Philippians 2:9–11, NLT). God did this not as wages He earned, but as the Father’s vindication of the way of self-giving love. The downward path — the one that looks like losing — is the path God honors, as long as love is what’s driving it. So when love costs us, it isn’t wasted, even when it feels like a loss. We’re walking the very road Jesus walked.
I’ve felt this most in my marriage. Loving my wife well has cost me — not in one dramatic act, but in a thousand small ones. Especially early on, when we were still learning to work through our differences, staying connected and loving her as I’d promised often meant dying to self: holding my tongue, controlling my reactions, letting go of my expectations, choosing her good over my own comfort. I wanted to be part of what God was doing in her life and in our marriage, and that meant sacrifice. Some days, honestly, it felt like bleeding.
And what kept me going when the cost made me want to pull back was remembering how Jesus loved. Loving like Him will hurt at times — and that hurt isn’t a sign that something has gone wrong. It’s the shape of real love. When the pain would normally deter me from loving well, remembering the cross led me right back to it.
Most of us will never face what Jesus faced — literally dying for another. But we encounter the smaller version all the time: the daily dying to self, the quiet bleeding, the love that costs more than it returns. When you’re there, don’t look at the ledger. Look at the cross. He loved, and He bled — and He will give you what you need to do the same.
Big Idea
Jesus loved without a ledger — nothing held back, nothing expected in return. Loving like Him will cost you; remembering how He loved makes it possible. Friends, go and love like Jesus!
Questions to Ponder
When you love someone, is there a quiet ledger running beneath — an expectation of what you’ll get back? Be honest with yourself. And if you don’t see it, ask the Lord to weigh in. What happens in you when love starts to hurt — do you lean in, or pull back? And if you pull back, what does it cost you? When you consider how Jesus loved — laying down His life with nothing held back — how does that change the way you see the cost before you? Does it energize you to love like Jesus, or to reach for excuses instead?
Application
With your journal in hand, get specific. Where are you loving with a ledger — holding back, keeping score, refusing to die to self? Name the relationship and the pattern. Then trace it down. The root: why is the ledger there? Beneath most selfish love lies a fear or a craving — of being hurt, of not feeling valued, of losing control. The payoff: what does keeping score give you? Maybe it feels safe. Maybe it spares you the risk of loving first. Name both, and bring them to the Lord. Confess the selfishness, surrender the fear, and remember you don’t have to protect yourself — the Lord is your protector as you love without holding back. Then take one concrete step of sacrificial love this week: lay something down for someone, expecting nothing back. Afterward, write down what it asked of you and where you saw the Lord meet you. And when the cost tempts you to keep score, don’t look at the ledger. Look at the cross.
Before the Lord — a daily devotional by Blake S. Crawford. Read more and subscribe free at blakescrawford.com/before-the-lord.
Relationships Cannot Be Managed: They Must Be Lived
Relationships were never meant to be managed — they were meant to be lived. The bridge between the two is trust in the Lord.
"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." — John 13:34–35 (ESV)
When I was younger, before I knew the Lord, I sought out relationships I could control. Not in an aggressive way — but in a subtle, strategic way. I gravitated toward people I knew I could manage. If I could manage the relationship, I could manage the outcome. And what outcome was I managing for? Making sure they'd never leave. I was terrified of abandonment, so I built relationships around control disguised as closeness and friendliness. That's codependency — and I lived in it for years.
I share this because I think more people manage their relationships than realize they do. Maybe it's not codependency for you. Maybe it's maintaining emotional distance so you don't get hurt. Maybe it's over-functioning so you feel needed. Maybe it's avoiding conflict so the surface stays smooth. Whatever it looks like, the instinct is the same: manage the relationship to manage the risk.
But relationships were never meant to be managed. They were meant to be lived. The bridge between the two is trust — trust in the Lord. We manage because we don't trust. We control outcomes because we're not sure God will hold us if things fall apart. But living in the present within a relationship — with all the mess and vulnerability that come with it — requires handing the outcome over to Him.
That's exactly what Jesus modeled. On His last night with His disciples, knowing full well that one would betray Him, another would deny Him, and all would scatter — He didn't pull back or manage. He remained. He gave them a command: love one another, just as I have loved you. His love wasn't strategic. It was sacrificial, freely given, and offered at great personal cost. He trusted the Father with the outcome — even though that outcome was the cross. That's not a managed relationship. That's a lived one. That's a trusting one.
God calls us into relationships the same way — not to manage people but to love them now, trusting Him with what we can't control.
Big Idea
Relationships were never meant to be managed — they were meant to be lived. The bridge between the two is trust in the Lord.
Questions to Ponder
Can you identify how you control relationships to manage risk? What are you protecting yourself from — and is that protection costing you the very closeness you want? What would it look like to trust the Lord enough to release control and love someone freely, without managing the outcome? Does the Lord hold that place in your life — if everything fell apart, would He be enough?
Application
Identify one relationship where you know you've been managing more than living. Name the person, the pattern, and the risk. Then ask the Lord what it would look like to trust Him with that relationship rather than control it yourself. Whatever He puts on your heart, take one step toward it this week: an honest conversation, letting go of an outcome you've been gripping, or simply showing up without an agenda. Let Christ's love be the model, not your fear.
Before the Lord — a daily devotional by Blake S. Crawford. Read more and subscribe free at blakescrawford.com/before-the-lord.
Jesus Wept: The God Who Enters Your Grief
Jesus didn't weep because He lacked the power to act. He wept because He's the kind of God who enters your grief before He resolves it — and that reveals more about His heart than the miracles that follow.
"Jesus wept." — John 11:35 (ESV)
Two words. The shortest verse in the Bible — and maybe the most revealing. I think this passage offers one of the most intimate glimpses into Jesus' heart — not just who He is, but how He feels about us.
Jesus knew what He was about to do. He stood outside the tomb of His friend Lazarus, minutes away from calling him back to life. He had the power. He had the plan. Yet before He acted, He wept.
I've read commentary after commentary, and no one seems to have a definitive answer to why. So here's what stirred in my heart as I sat with this passage.
First, I believe Jesus wept because He was fully present with those who were grieving. He didn't look past their struggle toward their certain deliverance. He didn't rush to fix it. He took in their pain — Mary's tears and the crowd's mourning — and entered into it. Isaiah called Him "a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief" (Isaiah 53:3, ESV), and this is that promise in the flesh. He sat in the sorrow before speaking the miracle.
Second, I believe Jesus wept because He was confronting the full weight of what sin and death have done to His creation. John tells us that before the tears came, Jesus was "deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled" (John 11:33, ESV). That phrase conveys indignation — not merely sadness, but righteous anger at the brokenness itself. He chose to fully enter into what life looks like in a fallen world — a world we were not designed to endure. And in doing so, He demonstrated what the writer of Hebrews affirmed: "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses" (Hebrews 4:15, ESV). He doesn't observe our pain from a distance. He feels it.
Third, I believe Jesus wept because knowing the ending didn't keep Him from feeling the middle. He knew Lazarus would walk out of that tomb. He knew the mourning would turn to amazement. Yet none of that kept Him from the sorrow in the room. He is the one person who could have said, "It's all going to work out" — and meant it. He was minutes away from proving it. But He didn't offer a platitude. He offered tears. How many of us can say the same? When someone we love is hurting, our instinct is to rush past the pain with empty optimism. Not Jesus. He fully enters in — even when the resurrection is minutes away.
No grief you carry is beneath His attention, and no sorrow you face is faced alone.
Big Idea
Jesus didn't weep because He lacked the power to act. He wept because He's the kind of God who enters your grief before He resolves it — and that reveals more about His heart than the miracles that follow.
Questions to Ponder
When you picture Jesus weeping outside Lazarus's tomb, what does that reveal about His heart toward you? When grief hits — yours or someone else's — do you tend to rush past the pain with empty optimism, or do you sit in it? What would it look like to follow Jesus' example and be fully present with someone who is hurting, without trying to fix it?
Application
Paul writes, "Weep with those who weep" (Romans 12:15, ESV) — think about someone in your life who is walking through a painful season. Instead of offering advice or trying to fix it, simply be present with them. Sit with them. Ask how they're really doing — and listen without rushing to a solution. That's what Jesus did at the tomb — and so can you.
Before the Lord — a daily devotional by Blake S. Crawford. Read more and subscribe free at blakescrawford.com/before-the-lord.
Pruned for a Purpose: Cut Back to Bear More
God doesn't prune to punish — He prunes to rejuvenate and restore. The pain of pruning is evidence of His purpose, not of His displeasure. And He often does His deepest work when we're completely blind to the need.
"Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit." — John 15:2 (ESV)
Jesus says, "I am the vine; you are the branches" — John 15:5 (ESV). The image is intimate. We don't produce fruit on our own. Every bit of life, growth, and fruitfulness flows from our connection to Him. Apart from the vine, a branch withers. Attached to the vine, the branch bears fruit. That makes sense. But what caught me off guard is what Jesus says in the second part of John 15:2: "and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit."
We expect God to remove anything that doesn't bear fruit, but why would He cut back something that seems to be working? Why does God prune branches that are already bearing fruit? It seems counterintuitive. Yet He does — He takes a blade to what's growing — relationships, comforts, seasons, even good things — and often does so when we're completely blind to the need.
I believe God does this because He sees what we can't. What looks fruitful on the surface can be quietly starving at the roots. God isn't fooled by a life that appears productive — He sees the structure beneath. When growth outpaces the roots, He cuts back to restore what matters most: your connection to the vine.
I learned this firsthand in my landscaping business. A plant could look lush and healthy on the outside — full of leaves, covered in blooms — but underneath, the structure was weak, and energy was going to the wrong places. The plant was malnourished, starving at the roots while spending everything on surface growth.
Trained to see below the surface, we knew the best remedy wasn't a gentle trimming but a regenerative prune — something we called a "hard cutback." When you perform a hard cutback, you cut deep into the arteries of the plant and remove significant growth, clearing out decay and poor structure. To an untrained eye, this pruning looks extremely destructive. But in reality, it opens the canopy so light can reach the interior, redirects energy back to the roots, and gives the plant room to breathe. The plant grows back stronger structurally and with more blooms than before.
That's exactly what God does with us. He sees the spiritual malnourishment hiding behind a successful-looking life — the busy schedule, the full calendar, the ministry that quietly starves your soul. We can't see it. He can. And He loves us too much to let us keep growing in a way that's killing us from the inside out.
God doesn't prune to punish. He prunes to rejuvenate — removing decay, creating room to breathe, and restoring your ability to draw life from the vine.
Big Idea
God doesn't prune to punish — He prunes to rejuvenate and restore. The pain of pruning is evidence of His purpose, not of His displeasure. And He often does His deepest work when we're completely blind to the need.
Questions to Ponder
Can you identify a season when God made a "hard cutback" in your life — removing something good to make room for something better? Looking back, what fruit came from that pruning that you couldn't see at the time? Is there an area right now where God may be pruning, and you're resisting the cut rather than trusting the Gardener?
Application
This week, ask the Lord to reveal one area He may be pruning in your life. Instead of resisting the pruning, bring it to Him honestly: "Lord, I trust that You're the vine and I'm the branch. Help me to trust You and to see what You're making room for." Write down what He reveals, then revisit it at the end of the week.
Before the Lord — a daily devotional by Blake S. Crawford. Read more and subscribe free at blakescrawford.com/before-the-lord.
The Helper: Closer Than You Think
When you give the Holy Spirit room to work, He does what no amount of effort or knowledge ever could — He transforms you from the inside out. He guides, comforts, strengthens, and produces fruit you could never grow on your own. That's not a distant God. That's God as close as your next breath.
"Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you." — John 16:7 (ESV)
Imagine hearing those words from the man you've followed for three years — the one who healed the sick, calmed the sea, and called you by name. Jesus is leaving. Not only is He leaving — He's telling you it's better this way.
That had to be devastating. These men loved Him. They'd left everything for Him. And now He's saying His departure is to their advantage? How could that possibly be true?
Because of who was coming next.
The Helper — the Holy Spirit — wasn't just going to walk beside them as Jesus had. He was going to live inside them. That's the difference. Jesus could be in only one place at a time. The Spirit would dwell in every believer everywhere, all at once. He would guide them into all truth (John 16:13), comfort them in affliction (2 Corinthians 1:4), help them in their weakness (Romans 8:26), and teach them all things, bringing to remembrance everything Jesus had said (John 14:26).
And it doesn't stop there. Paul tells us that the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead now lives in us — and gives life to our mortal bodies (Romans 8:9, 11). He produces fruit in us that we could never manufacture on our own: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). That's not a list to achieve — it's a harvest the Spirit grows when He's given room to work.
This is what Jesus meant when He said it's better. Not better because He wasn't enough — but better because the Spirit can do what Jesus' physical presence couldn't — live in all believers at once, transforming them from the inside out.
The Spirit is already in you. The question is whether you're letting Him work.
Big Idea
When you give the Holy Spirit room to work, He does what no amount of effort or knowledge ever could — He transforms you from the inside out. He guides, comforts, strengthens, and produces fruit you could never grow on your own. That's not a distant God. That's God as close as your next breath.
Questions to Ponder
How aware are you of the Holy Spirit's presence in your daily life? Do you lean on Him when you're weak, or default to your own strength? What would change if you treated the Spirit not as a theological concept but as a living, active presence — guiding your decisions, shaping your character, and producing fruit you could never grow on your own? What's one concrete thing you can do to give the Spirit more room to work in your life?
Application
This week, begin each morning with a simple prayer: "Holy Spirit, lead me today." Then pay attention. Notice the moments when you feel prompted to pause, speak, stay silent, forgive, or act. That's Him. The Helper is already at work — your job is to stop drowning Him out and start listening. As you spend time in God's word, watch how the Spirit brings it to life in ways you didn't expect. He's not just in you — He's for you.
Before the Lord — a daily devotional by Blake S. Crawford. Read more and subscribe free at blakescrawford.com/before-the-lord.