Ephesians 5:28

Paul — a first-century follower of Jesus who wrote many letters to early churches — is writing to the church in Ephesus about relationships within a household. He instructs husbands to love their wives the way they naturally care for their own bodies — with instinct, attentiveness, and without hesitation. His logic is that in marriage, two people are so united that loving your spouse is, in a real sense, loving yourself. This was a striking claim in the ancient world, where wives were often regarded more as property than as equals deserving of devoted care.

Father, you love us with a love that doesn't calculate or pull back. Teach me that kind of love — practical, attentive, and constant. Where I've been selfish or inattentive in my closest relationships, give me the grace to show up differently tomorrow. Amen.

There's a kind of love that calculates — that keeps a running tab of what's been given and what's come back, that slowly withdraws when the return seems too low. Most of us know that love well because we've practiced it at some point. But Paul describes something stranger and more demanding: a love so fused with another person that caring for them becomes as natural and unhesitating as caring for yourself. When your hand is cut, you don't pause to decide whether it deserves a bandage. You just reach for one. For married readers, this isn't a verse about romance on good days — it's about noticing when your partner is depleted on the ordinary ones. Taking their exhaustion seriously on a Wednesday night. Advocating for their rest before your own comfort. For everyone, this verse points toward a love that doesn't wait to feel ready. You take care of your body even on the mornings you can barely get out of bed. What would it look like to love the people in your life with that same reliable, undramatic constancy?