2 Corinthians 12:14

Paul was one of the earliest leaders of the Christian church, and he wrote this letter to a community of believers in Corinth — a major city in ancient Greece — who had grown suspicious of his motives. Some members accused him of secretly exploiting them financially through his ministry. Paul pushes back plainly: he doesn't want their money, he wants them. He uses the image of a parent saving up for a child — not the other way around — to make the point. Good parents invest in their children without expecting repayment. That's how Paul sees his relationship with the Corinthians — not as a financial transaction, but as a family bond built on genuine love.

Father, forgive me for the ways I give without really showing up. Teach me to love people the way Paul did — not wanting something from them, but wanting something genuinely good for them. Help me be present today to the people who need more than my convenience. Amen.

There's a kind of love that keeps score. It tallies what it's given, calculates what it's owed, and quietly withdraws when the math doesn't work out. We've all experienced it — and if we're honest, most of us have practiced it. Paul is describing something entirely different. He's saying: I don't want your stuff. I want you. That's a harder gift to offer than money. It means showing up when there's nothing to gain. It means caring about someone's actual growth, their real wellbeing, their personhood — not just their usefulness to you. Paul modeled a kind of love that poured out without expectation of return, and he learned it from someone who did the same on a cross. The question for you isn't only whether you're generous with your wallet. It's whether you're generous with yourself — your time, your honest attention, your actual presence. Who in your life is getting the real you, and who is only getting what's convenient to give?