Introduction

If you’ve ever stood at the sink late at night replaying a hard conversation, wondering whether love can last through another week of deadlines, disappointments, or disrespect, you are in good company. Hearts get bruised. Words get sharp. People we care about act like porcupines. And if we’re honest, there are days we do too. Yet right in the middle of ordinary, scratchy life, the Lord hands us a passage that feels like a soft blanket on a cold day and a strong backbone for a weak one. It’s simple enough for a child to memorize and strong enough to hold a marriage, a friendship, a church together.

Tim Keller once said, “The gospel is this: We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope.” That love is not thin or timid. It is holy, hearty, and healing. God doesn’t love us from a distance. He steps into our mess with mercy, sits with us in our worry, and stands with us when we’re worn out. His care is not a theory. It’s a table spread with grace for hungry people.

And that’s where we begin today. Before we speak of what love looks like toward others, we pause to receive it from the Father. Worn souls need warm mercy. Tired hearts need tender care. We can’t pour from an empty cup. What happens when the God who loves you first, loves you most, and loves you still pours His affection into you? It spills over. It moves us from clenched fists to open hands, from sharp tongues to gentle answers, from keeping score to keeping step with the Spirit. This isn’t sentimental. It is sturdy. It is the quiet courage of kindness and the steady strength of truth.

Some of you are facing difficult people—a coworker who criticizes everything, a teenager testing every boundary, a spouse whose patience is paper-thin, a neighbor whose gossip keeps growing. What if love looks like patience on Monday morning and kindness at the kitchen table? What if love sounds like honesty that refuses to exaggerate, clarity that refuses to wound, and truth that refuses to hide? God’s love doesn’t run from hard rooms. It walks in, turns on the light, and stays.

We’ll see three things as we open our hearts to this passage. First, we receive God’s care and extend agape—the rugged, resilient affection that has nail scars and a resurrection story. Second, we learn to live patience, kindness, and honesty toward difficult people, not with gritted teeth, but with grace-filled trust. Third, we renounce what love is not: jealousy, arrogance, rudeness, irritability, scorekeeping, and a taste for wrongdoing. When those weeds spring up, we pull them—quickly, humbly, consistently—by the power of the Spirit.

Before we read, picture the people who will hear your words this week. See the faces that bring you joy and the names that make you nervous. Picture the places where love has gone thin—your workplace, your living room, your group text. Then ask the Lord to plant fresh love right there—love that is patient while waiting in traffic, kind while standing in a checkout line, honest when tempted to avoid the hard talk, and hopeful when the night feels long.

Hear the word of the Lord.

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 (ESV) “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”

Let’s pray.

Father of mercies, we come to You with open hands. Some of us are weary; some of us are wounded; all of us need Your love. Pour Your care into our hearts by the Holy Spirit. Teach us the patience of Christ, the kindness of Christ, the honesty of Christ. Where irritation has taken hold, replace it with gentleness. Where envy whispers, let gratitude sing. Where scorekeeping has grown, break the ledger and bind our hearts with forgiveness. Give us the courage to love difficult people the way You have loved us—steadily, sincerely, sacrificially. As we hear Your word, shape our words. As we receive Your love, make us ready to extend it. In the strong and saving name of Jesus we pray, Amen.

Receive God's care and extend agape

Love begins with receiving care. Not trying harder. Not standing taller. Receiving. Let God meet you. Let His kindness soak in. Let His peace steady your breath. When you live cared for, love has room to grow. It has room to act. It has room to stay.

This starts in simple ways. Sit quiet for a few minutes. Open the Scriptures. Speak to God like you would to a trusted friend. Tell Him what hurts. Tell Him where you are stuck. Ask for help. Remember the cross. Remember the empty tomb. Let grace settle your fear and hurry. A cared-for heart moves slow and steady. It can wait. It can listen. It can give.

The passage in 1 Corinthians shows what this care looks like when it walks into a room. It is not a feeling only. It is action. It is posture. It is the shape of our words and choices. It is how we handle time, power, and truth. Hold the words close. Use them as a mirror for your heart and a map for your day.

Love is patient and kind. Patience means long breathing. It means staying present when progress is slow. It means giving time for people to grow. God has been patient with you. He still is. So take the same long view with others. Wait your turn in the meeting. Sit on the edge of the bed and listen to that same story again. Let a child tie their own shoes even if you could do it faster. Kindness is patience with hands and feet. It picks up the phone even when it is hard. It uses a warm tone. It chooses a soft reply. It leaves a note on the counter. It shares the last slice. It steps in to help without a spotlight. Patience and kindness often look small. Yet they are mighty. They set the climate in a home, a team, a church. When your chest tightens, slow down. Say a short prayer. Count to five. Picture the way God has treated you today. Then act from that place. That is patience with kindness.

Love does not envy or boast. It is not arrogant or rude. Envy says, “I should have what they have.” Boasting says, “Look at me.” Arrogance puffs up. Rudeness pushes through. These habits feel strong in the moment. They leave people smaller. They also leave you empty. God’s care answers the hunger beneath them. In Christ, you are seen. You are held. You have a name and a future. From that safety, you can cheer for others. You can clap at their wins. You can share credit. You can ask good questions and actually listen. You can greet people by name and look them in the eye. You can pick words that fit a guest at your table. Online, you can post less about yourself and more about good work others are doing. At work, you can resist the urge to top someone’s story. In family talks, you can put away sarcasm. Try this practice for a week: when envy rises, give thanks out loud for one gift in your life and one gift in theirs. When pride rises, do one quiet task that no one will see. When you feel sharp, pause and soften your voice. Little acts like these train the heart. They make space for love.

Love does not insist on its own way. Love is not irritable or resentful. Control is heavy. It squeezes the air out of a room. Irritation is like grit in the eye. Resentment is a file kept on others. None of these bring life. God’s care opens the hand. It frees you to seek the shared good. It helps you yield small preferences so people can breathe. Let someone else pick the restaurant. Let the team try a plan that is not yours. Ask, “What would serve them best right now?” Give your day margin so you are not always on edge. Sleep enough. Eat real food. Pray before hard meetings. These simple steps guard your temper. When a hurt lands, name it early. Say, “That stung.” Ask for clarity. Forgive as an act of trust in God. Stop writing down every slight in your mind. Do not replay it again and again. When the memory comes back, place it in God’s hands again. Keep short accounts. Speak grace. Practice blessing the person in private prayer. Over time the weight lifts. You find you can breathe and love again.

Love takes no joy in harm. It finds joy in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Truth is not a weapon in the hand. It is light for the path. Love tells the truth with care. It refuses gossip. It does not feed on scandal. It rejoices when honesty comes out and sets people free. To bear all things means to cover others like a roof in a storm. You protect their dignity. You hold their story with care. To believe all things means you give a fair reading. You assume good intent when the facts allow it. You ask for details before you judge. To hope all things means you look for signs of God at work. You pray with expectation. You leave room for people to change. To endure all things means you stay. You keep showing up. You set wise limits when needed and still you do not quit love. You keep your vows. You keep your word. You keep your post. This is not flashy. It is strong. It looks like steady trust in God’s care, day after day, as you speak truth, protect, believe, hope, and carry weight with and for others.

Live patience kindness and honesty toward difficult people

Hard rooms are part of life ... View this full PRO sermon free with PRO