If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For

“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same,” spoke Jesus Christ, the great teacher whose words still pierce the veil of human comfort and call the soul to higher ground. This is not a gentle saying meant to soothe; it is a divine challenge — an invitation to rise beyond the natural instinct of self-interest into the divine law of unconditional love. For love, when it is easy, costs nothing; but true love — the love that reflects the nature of God — is forged in the fire of sacrifice.

The origin of this teaching lies in the Sermon on the Plain, as recorded in the Gospel of Luke (6:32–33). In that sacred moment, Jesus stood among the multitudes — the poor, the outcast, the weary — and spoke of a love so pure, so radical, that it overturned the world’s order. His audience lived in a time of vengeance and retribution, when love was counted as a debt and justice was measured in balance. But Jesus, in his divine wisdom, shattered that arithmetic. He taught that love must not be reciprocal, but redemptive; that the measure of goodness is not how we treat our friends, but how we treat our enemies.

To “love those who love you” is merely to mirror the world. Every creature, even the cruel and corrupt, knows affection toward its own. The wolf guards its pack; the tyrant protects his allies. But to love those who hate you — to bless those who curse you, to forgive those who wound you — this is the love of heaven, the love that transforms the heart and redeems the earth. Such love is not born of sentiment, but of strength; not of weakness, but of courage. It demands that we transcend our pride, that we see in every soul, even the most broken, the image of the divine.

Consider the story of St. Stephen, the first martyr of Christianity. As stones rained upon him, cast by those who despised him, he lifted his eyes toward heaven and cried, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” In that moment of agony, Stephen fulfilled the teaching of his Master. He did not love as men love, but as God loves — without condition, without bitterness, without demand. His forgiveness was not defeat; it was victory — for he turned hatred into light. Through his act, we see what Christ meant: that true love does not wait to be deserved; it pours itself out even where it is rejected.

This teaching is a sword of the spirit — sharp and unyielding. For it calls us not merely to be kind, but to die to the self, to surrender the false comfort of fairness. When we love only those who return our affection, our love remains small, confined by ego. But when we love the undeserving — the enemy, the stranger, the sinner — our love expands to match the heart of God. Such love breaks the cycle of vengeance, heals divisions, and redeems even the hardest of hearts. It is the love that turns crucifixion into resurrection.

And yet, how difficult it is! To bless those who wound us feels unnatural, even impossible. But Jesus did not speak these words to condemn, but to awaken. He knew that within every soul lies the seed of divine compassion — a spark capable of transcending hatred. This is why he commanded not vengeance, but mercy; not retaliation, but grace. In doing so, he revealed the path to freedom: for resentment chains the heart, but forgiveness releases it. The one who loves his enemy is no longer prisoner to the world’s cruelty — he has joined the realm of the eternal.

Therefore, dear listener, let this teaching not remain as words, but as life within you. Love your family, yes, but also love the stranger. Do good to your friends, yes, but also to those who have wronged you. When insulted, answer with gentleness; when rejected, respond with compassion. For this is how the light overcomes darkness. To love without expectation is to become a vessel of divine peace — a flame that no hatred can extinguish.

And remember, the love Jesus spoke of is not weakness, but power — the kind that changes worlds. It was this love that disarmed empires, healed the sick, and lifted the broken from despair. So go forth and love as the Master loved — fiercely, selflessly, endlessly. For in doing so, you will not only honor His words, but awaken the image of God within your own heart. And then, truly, you will have your credit — not from men, but from heaven itself.