About a month ago there was a lengthy essay in the Sunday New York Times entitled “Why Is the Loneliness Epidemic So Hard to Cure?” As you might know, the US Surgeon General issued a warning on the “epidemic of loneliness and isolation.” Study after study has shown people increasingly feeling severely lonely and isolated, and some of those studies have shown that this isn’t just unpleasant—it’s actually dangerous to our physical health: that loneliness “raises our blood pressure, negatively alters our cognitive functions, is associated with Type 2 diabetes and shortens our life spans.” 

And the essay’s main question was about our response: what should we do about this? Many of the best psychologists and sociologists and medical experts throughout the world are seeking to find a solution to what is clearly a really big problem. Countries have sought to raise awareness with campaigns like, “Your hobbies are important.” Mail carriers in England have been tasked with checking in on potentially isolated people. The US Surgeon General has suggested that our movies and TV shows should create content that reinforces the value of social connection. Shockingly, none of this seems to be making a difference in helping people feel less lonely. 

A recent large-scale and expensive study on this done by the Harvard Graduate School of Education ultimately made the following three recommendations: 1. Educate lonely people about how not to do things that make them lonely. 2. Educate different institutions, like schools, to help them facilitate social connections. And 3. Restore our commitments to each other. This is the most interesting of the three, because it speaks of a “deep moral failure,” where we’ve elevated the self at the expense of paying attention to the other. Parents teach their kids to prioritize achievement and happiness without focusing on caring for others. So how do we fix that problem? Well, through…education.

Is that what’s going to make us less lonely? Lots of education? 

The NYT essay concluded in what to me was a really unsatisfying way, where it essentially said, “We’re just going to have to learn to be okay with connecting to people online and being less involved in each other’s lives.” It felt fairly hopeless. 

And yet in the article, there was an interesting little statement that said more than I think the author realized. It mentioned how one of the authors of the Harvard study in a recent interview brought up the question of religion, where he said, “I worry about the decline in religious affiliation and religious participation and I’m not suggesting that we should become more religious but I want to just suggest to you that religions are a place where adults engage kids in moral questions, where there’s a a structure for finding meaning and purpose, where kids are asked to think about their responsibilities for other people. And again I’m not saying we should become more religious. But I feel urgently like we have to figure out how to reproduce those aspects of religion in secular life.” We have to reproduce those aspects of religion in secular life, as if the religious part can be extracted. Is that how it works?

What we have seen in Romans is something very different. That it is precisely the “religious part,” or more accurately, it’s precisely Jesus, and our identity in him that is what makes community and connectedness possible. Because on one hand, it is in our belonging to Jesus that we are pulled out of our solitary self and are connected to a web of relationships who are strengthened by us and who strengthen us. And yet on the other hand it is our belonging to Jesus that allows us to be connected to others without losing ourselves or being exploited. Because in giving ourselves to Jesus, we find ourselves; in serving him we find freedom. 

What Scripture tells us is that if we are looking for a real and true antidote to loneliness; if we’re looking for meaningful community, it won’t come to us through education, but in our relation to Jesus.

This morning as we continue looking at this passage in Romans, I want to take this idea further by considering what true community is—what a community that has meaningful and life-giving connections looks like. What our passages invites us to see is that a community of “niceness” is not enough. What’s needed is a community of genuine love. And that can only happen through Jesus.

What We’re Becoming

Verse 9 offers the central idea of our passage, describing the kind of community that Jesus desires for us: “Let love be genuine.” A genuine, life-giving community is a community with genuine love. Which is different from being a community of niceness. What do I mean by that?

Niceness seeks to make the person feel good in the moment. Genuine love seeks what is truly good for the person.

Verse 9, immediately after saying “Let love be genuine,” goes on to tell us that genuine love means we, “Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good.” 

Niceness is about being pleasant, it’s about trying to make the person feel good. Because when we’re pleasant, when we make the other person feel good, then they like us. And we like to be liked. We don’t like to offend or disappoint. A community where everybody is nice can be a very pleasant place.

The problem is, sometimes the very best thing for someone involves doing or saying something unpleasant.  

When American Idol was big, at the beginning of the season, it always seemed to include at least one example of an absolutely terrible singing audition. Not just someone who isn’t great, but someone who can’t even hold a tune remotely, just super-cringe absolutely embarrassing themselves in front of the whole country. And whenever I saw this, I always found myself asking a simple question: didn’t these people have friends who could have been honest with them, who instead of being nice could actually have loved them and said, “I love you, but this is just not your thing?” 

We get it, right? It’s really hard to tell someone, “Look, you’re just not really good at this.” And so we can imagine how these auditioners friends would say, “Wow, that was great!” Even when they knew it totally wasn’t. Because that’s the nice thing to do. 

But that’s not real love. Real love is about seeking what is truly good for the person, whether or not it makes them happy in the moment.  

Just one practical example: say a friend posts something on Facebook that says something fairly mean about an authority figure—the parent, or boss; or maybe they post an exaggerated claim about a political figure. How do you respond? Well, in social media “communities” it’s normally one of two ways. If people feel like they belong to that person’s tribe, they will essentially give the post high fives. They’ll “like” the post, write something supportive: this is a response of niceness, making the person feel validated: but is that good? On the other hand, occasionally someone might respond critically, saying why the person posting is wrong, and even perhaps a terrible person. This isn’t nice, but neither is it loving, because the responder is just really scoring points.

In a genuinely loving community, something different happens. A person might see that post and actually reach out and talk face to face with their friend and say, “Hey, I noticed that post—tell me more about that,” trying to understand. And then, within that context gently inviting that friend to consider that this might not have been the most kind or helpful thing to do. Now, is that harder than the other responses? Way harder! And it might even make your friend frustrated with you. But, see, genuine love is more than niceness: it’s about seeking what is truly good for the friend. 

Niceness stays shallow, while genuine love goes deep.

In a community of niceness, there are kind of some rules that you’re not meant to break. If you say “Hi, how are you doing?” the understanding is that you’re just wanting to show that you care, but that you don’t really have the time to listen if a person is struggling. If you say, “That sounds awful—is there anything I can do to help?” both people know that you can ask for a minor favor, like loaning a lawn mower or maybe even giving something a ride, but nothing too costly. And within niceness, people know that the relationship really only lasts as long as the two people can see each other—the moment they are out of sight, the relationship essentially disappears.

But that’s not the way of genuine love. In a community of genuine love, it goes deep. Look at verse 10: “Love one another” that, is, the fellow members of the body, the church, “with brotherly affection.” I have three brothers. If any of them is going through something difficult, and they need to talk, I find time to talk with them. And if they are going through something hard and need help, I will do what I can, even if it costs me. Why? Because we’re brothers—the bond goes deep. Likewise, within the church, we have a bond with each even deeper than blood, because we are in Christ, and it’s a bond that will last for all eternity. Jesus is bringing about among us deep, affectionate, caring love for each other that goes way beyond niceness. 

You know, one of the most Christian things we do on a Sunday morning is the greeting time, when we give each other warm smiles, handshakes, hugs, when we express the affection of a family getting together. Because that’s what we are. 

Niceness seeks to be noticed; genuine love notices.

The thing about niceness, if we’re honest, is that it has a lot to do with how we’re viewed. We want people to see us as loving, we want people to like us; we want people to think highly of us. We are nice because we want people to see that we’re nice. That’s why we say things like “I’ll be praying for you” and then forget to do so.

But notice what Paul says about real love. Love is about outdoing one another in showing honor, or, as the NIV has it, “Honor one another above yourselves.” Real love cares much more about seeing the other person be honored. If niceness is about being noticed, real love is about noticing. 

• Real love notices and pays attention to what is admirable about the other person and is quick to point that out. 

• Real love, rather than turning the conversation back to self, is constantly seeking to turn it toward the other. 

• And when there’s conflict, real love is more careful to try to understand the other than it is to being understood. 

Finally, niceness is cheap, real love is costly.

There’s a reason that communities of niceness are more common than communities of genuine love. Because niceness feels way more sustainable. Being nice doesn’t really ask much of us. But genuine love is different. 

Verse 13, “Contribute to the needs of the saints,” might better be translated as, “Share in the needs of the saints,” in other words, when someone in your community feels the weight of a need, you feel it with them. Paul in Galatians says something similar when he says we are called to “Bear one another’s burdens.” Within a community, there can be financial burdens, maybe caused by unemployment or unexpected expenses. In a loving community, we help those in need carry that, maybe by helping them find a job or loaning a car. There are emotional burdens—grief, loneliness, depression. In a loving community, we help carry that, not by trying to fix these things, but by walking with people in the midst of these challenges. There are spiritual burdens as each of us are fighting against sin and struggling with our own challenges. In a loving community, we help carry that as we encourage each other and pray for each other. Unlike with a community of niceness, it’s costly to belong to a genuinely loving community.  

Which is why in verse 11 we read, “Do not be slothful in zeal, but be fervent in spirit.” Because genuine love takes energy. It takes emotional courage that can be draining when we truly seek the good of the other. Paying attention to the other takes effort. Sharing in each other’s needs is wearying. And so Paul very realistically warns us, do not let yourself become unmotivated. Don’t run out of steam when it comes to your passion. You are going to have to work to maintain the energy needed for genuine love. Because it’s hard.

And yet, even so, isn’t that the kind of community we want? What good is a community that only cares on the surface, that won’t stick with you when things or hard or when you become unpleasant. Don’t we long to be part of something where we experience genuine love. And don’t we also want to be those who love, even though it hurts?

C S Lewis famously wrote: “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one…avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

What we really want—what is the real answer to our loneliness—is to be in a community of genuine love.

But how? What we just described is hard. This costly community of genuine love won’t come about through awareness campaigns and ongoing education. Knowing myself, some sort of shiny add with people doing good things for each other and finishing with something like, “Let’s love each other,” is not going to suddenly rescue me from my self-absorption. I need stronger stuff than that!

How Christ Makes It Possible

The only way this happens is through our connection to Jesus. By being connected to Jesus, the genuinely loving community that was otherwise impossible begins to be possible. 

Serve the Lord

Why? Well, to begin with, look at what we see in verse 11: “Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit.” And Paul doesn’t stop there. What comes next is the beginning of an understanding of how to be fervent: “Serve the Lord,” with Lord here being a reference to Jesus. 

Paul is saying that there’s a secret in learning to love others well. It comes by not focusing on them first and foremost, but instead by looking at Jesus and seeking to serve him. See, loving with genuine love means loving people that aren’t always easy to love, who sometimes aren’t even likeable; it means loving beyond what you feel like they deserve. The people you love often don’t see, often don’t appreciate what you are doing. If we just look at each other, often love will not seem worth it.

But Jesus is worth it. You can never serve Christ beyond what he deserves. And whenever you are seeking to love someone else in the church, in Christ’s body, you’re not just serving that person. You’re serving Jesus. When you reach out to a friend gently to confront them, or when you cook a meal for someone who is sick, or when you spend a couple of hours on Saturday night preparing for Sunday school, the person you are serving above all else, is Jesus. The time, the tiredness, the tears you spend in seeking to love others—you are giving those to Jesus. He sees what it costs you, and he delights in your expressions of love toward him. When you recognize this you will find new energy to love. Because Jesus is worth it. Do you see how that works?

Rejoice in Hope

Verse 12 shows us another reason why Jesus makes possible what is otherwise impossible. It says that we need to be patient—that is, long suffering, in tribulation. Love, Paul is saying, will often be painful in the moment. So how do we do that? Well, notice the instruction this is paired with: “Rejoice in hope.” 

When someone belongs to Jesus, they come to understand that whatever they do in service to Jesus is not in vain. They begin to realize that that the Jesus who sees and cares for them is also the King who will reward them. As Paul reminds us, “this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.” 

This is really important. Because as long as we are living by the calculus: “What am I getting out of this now,” we can never be a community of love. Because love is costly, and if we put it on a spreadsheet weighing the costs and benefits right now, it won’t seem worth it. 

But hope, confidence in our King is what empowers us to live both sacrificially and yet joyfully in the present—it’s what makes love possible. You and I are able to do all sorts of difficult things because of the joy we know that lies at the end. Think of entrepreneurs spending long hard days to start something exciting, or marathoners pushing through exhaustion to finish; think of mothers laboring to bring a child into the world. Those who belong to Jesus can endure our momentary challenges, we can keep going, because we know in the end it will all be worth it. Because we know we can trust the one who died for us to make all things right. We can love in the present because we can rejoice in hope.

Be constant in prayer. 

And notice one more thing in verse 12 “Be constant in prayer.” Prayer, of course, is not just quiet, or meditation, or ritual. Prayer is turning toward a personal God and asking him for help. And when that becomes more than a sporadic thing but something that is an essential part of our lives—when we learn increasingly to be “constant” in turning toward God and asking him for help, a funny thing happens: we grow in love. 

Why? Part of it is the simple fact that God answers prayer. When we feel our selfishness and ask him to help us grow in love, he will answer and slowly but truly change us. And another part of it is that the closer we get to God and the more time we spend with him, the more we become like him. As we turn toward God in prayer, over time we begin to understand at an increasingly deep level that we are turning toward someone who loves us far more deeply than we can ever imagine—someone who passionately seeks our good, who pays attention to our every moment and every thought, even knowing the number of hairs on our head—someone who chose to carry our burden—our sin, our death, even at great cost to himself. And when you come to experience that personally, that changes you and moves you to love. And then you, as you are praying for people, you start realizing that the God who loves you also loves everyone else in your community in the very same way. And you find yourself wanting to join him in that love.

There is a way out of this mess. There is a way to real connection and real community—a community not just of niceness but genuine love. And that way is found in serving Jesus, rejoicing in our hope in him, and turning in prayer. Let’s do that now.