Build Your Home in Eternity

“There are three things that will endure forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.” (1 Cor. 13:13)

My dearest daughters,

I’ve often pondered why faith, hope and love remain when all else fades. But this much I know—if these are eternal, then every time we practice them, we are investing in eternity itself. As for me, I want to invest in what will not pass away.

So how do we make those investments here on earth? We’re commanded by God to love—to love our neighbor as ourselves, and even to love our enemies. But what does that truly mean?

Mere Christianity, by C.S. Lewis, offers helpful clarity. Loving our neighbor does not mean that we like everything about them. We may strongly dislike their actions, their attitudes, even their patterns of behavior, and yet we are still called to love them.

So how do we love our neighbor as ourselves?

Think of your own life. Do you always like yourself? Are there not nights when you lie awake and grieve over your own words or attitudes? Perhaps you’ve thought, I hate how I spoke today. I regret how I treated my child, or my husband. And yet, most don’t entirely lose hope for transformation. You don’t say, I’m beyond change.

Instead, you turn to God and say, You are faithful. You can change me. You can make me into who I long to be. I believe in You, so I will change!

This is also how we love our neighbor as ourselves. We hold that same faith for them and reach for the same hope that we have for our own souls. We look beyond what they are today and fix our eyes on who God created them to be, and who He is still able to make them into.

I remember a time when, as a young woman, I struggled deeply to love another woman. It was early in my marriage, and all I could see was how she was doing things wrong. I didn’t think she treated other sisters well. She seemed nitpicky. I didn’t like the way she interacted with her children, and it began to consume my thoughts.

To be fair, some of what I observed may have been true. But truth, when filtered through a wrong spirit, becomes a blinding monster far from love.

One day, I brought all of my grievances to your dad, carefully cataloging what I had seen and felt. He listened quietly for a time and then said something piercing: “I don’t know if that’s accurate or not. But I do not feel the Holy Spirit or a spirit of love in your attitude toward her. I think the first step is to repent.”

Feeling the deep conviction of God, I went into our bedroom, found the little striped chair, and knelt beside it to pray. But I didn’t even know how to begin. The thoughts I had entertained had so shaped my vision that I could hardly see her any other way.

Finally, I prayed, God, deliver me from my perspective. Help me to see her through Your eyes. And in a moment, my view shifted so that I saw her fears, her insecurities, her love, small and fragile, but real. I beheld her tentative efforts to give what she herself was still learning to receive. I was grieved with myself more deeply than I had been in a long time.

That very evening at a church service, the Word of God came with power. And though neither I nor my husband had said a word to anyone about my concerns, that woman went to the altar and knelt to ask for prayer.

As I watched her, I sensed the Lord speaking to my own heart. Could it be that my judgment, even though unspoken, had been a hindrance to this step? Could it be that my step of repentance for holding her in condemnation had released something in the Spirit that had long held her back? It was a sobering thought.

Our attitudes toward others matter more than we often understand. They do not remain contained within us, but either hinder or help the work of God in another’s life.

If we would walk in hope, believing for others, our faith would spread like water over a dry, unsprouted field of corn, until the small, hardened seeds begin to break open and reach toward the light of the sun.

But what do you do when you have a neighbor—perhaps a sister-in-law, a mother-in-law, or another woman in your life—whose behavior you find yourself recoiling from? How do you continue to love them?

We must first understand something: Having affection for someone is not the same as truly loving them. Affection can be fickle. As Mere Christianity illustrates, a mother may feel great affection for her child, and yet that very affection may lead her to indulge him in ways that are not for his ultimate good. In this case, affection is actually overriding true love. Affection and liking someone can certainly facilitate love—but they are not its foundation.

True love is a choice of the will and of the heart. We choose to love. And when we practice the commandment to love, something remarkable happens: affection can begin to grow. But it follows, it doesn’t lead. This is actually a relief, because it means that if you don’t feel affection for someone—if you don’t enjoy their personality, their habits, or their behavior—you aren’t disqualified from loving them. You can still love them fully. And over time, affection itself may grow.

So how do we do this? We practice love—especially toward those we have trouble liking and for whom we feel little to no natural affection. When you’re struggling to love someone you know you’re commanded to love, you must begin with action. You look for opportunities to be kind. You look for a compliment to share. You train your eyes to see what is worthy of honor. Ask yourself: What would I do for this person if I truly loved and liked them? Then do that thing at once. And you’ll find that your love and affection immediately begin to grow.

This concept becomes especially important in close relationships, such as with your children—particularly in their teenage years, when much of what they do may not feel especially likable. In those moments, you must set them up to succeed. Find one thing they do well. Create a place for it, and then call it out and praise it.

The very act of offering a compliment, of giving a service, of making a meal for someone you’re struggling to love—these things expand love and even affection, because love is a living, growing thing. When you feed it and water it, it grows.

If you practice the works of love, even when your heart lags behind, your love will increase, and often, affection will follow.

But the opposite is also true. If you practice criticism, if you rehearse faults, if you speak about someone’s weaknesses and dwell on what you dislike, your dislike will grow. Your love will diminish. You will have fed into the destructive work of the accuser.

You’re always cultivating something. So I plead with you—invest in love.

“Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.” (Philippians 4:8)

Think on these things. Speak of these things. Dwell on these things. In doing so, you’re making an investment, not only in the love you will experience here on earth, but in heaven itself.

You’re preparing a home, and home is where love thrives, where peace expands, where hope continues, and where faith is ever-present. So build your home in eternity—by building your faith, your hope, and your love, not only for yourself, but for your neighbor. Believe for them. Hope for them. Love them for eternity.

Love is not static but living.

And it grows where it’s cultivated. So cultivate love, that in the light of the face of the Son, it will sprout and bloom.

With all my love,

Mom