One of the Bible’s most refined literary and artistic works is the Gospel of John. In recent readings, it increasingly emerges as a gospel of decisive, personal encounters between the Lord Jesus and various individuals.
The Master seeks out these people within the space and time of their lives—at midnight, at noon, by a well, beside a pool, in the Temple, at the cross, or on the seashore.
Reading these accounts leaves one with a quiet but persistent conviction: Someone is still searching today for the secular individual, the agnostic, the anti-religious—and, equally, for the religious fanatic. He seeks them where their daily lives unfold: at work, in their apartments, in the bustle of the street. He seeks those who live in luxury homes, as well as those who spend winter nights in sewer tunnels or on the streets among cardboard shelters.
A priori
In our world, there are both visible realities and less apparent ones that operate unconditionally, without explicit cause—a priori. The apostle Paul writes that God loved us “when we were still powerless” (Romans 5:6), “while we were still sinners” (5:8), and “while we were God’s enemies” (5:10).
These statements illuminate, with striking clarity, the encounters described in the Gospels. From this perspective, we understand that His love is grace, not merit or personal effort; a gift, not something acquired; the very expression of His nature, not the product of ours.
We struggle to comprehend this kind of love—one that is expressed in advance, without cause, without any apparent reason. We are accustomed to a different framework, one governed by causality. In our society, love tends to manifest only if, because, or as a result of something. It is conditional by nature, and when the condition is no longer met, the love itself disappears.
True love, however, seems to belong to an entirely different order. It operates according to different laws and principles, shaped by distinct ways of expression and understanding. In our world, everything is weighed and measured against external factors, judged by outward standards. By contrast, the Kingdom of God described in the Gospel presents a radically different reality—one in which both things and beings function according to their inner nature.
A love beyond comparison
Any attempt to compare earthly realities, reactions, and behaviors with those “above” is therefore misleading. Rightly so, God’s love cannot be likened to anything else; it resists comparison with any other form or expression.
It is often said that love, as an expression, has an opposite—hatred. Yet this assumption rests on a limited perspective. If we try to define authentic, unconditional love by contrasting it with an opposing feeling, we fail to grasp its boundless essence. Hatred, a defined and conditioned emotion, cannot stand as the opposite of a love that knows no limits. Eternal love, flowing from God’s eternal nature, does not submit to the rules of comparison, because it cannot be contained within any system that measures finite emotions. More often than not, we fall into the trap of organising and classifying experiences through cultural and social lenses, which lead us to interpret everything in terms of limits and oppositions. As a result, when love is filtered through external conditions, it risks being confused with finite emotions—and a person who loves conditionally will always remain vulnerable to expressing hatred under the same conditions.
The Bible, however, presents a God who loves unconditionally—He is love before anything else exists, before the universe itself and before the creation of humanity. His love is eternal in nature (“I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness” [Jeremiah 31:3]), unlimited and unbound by external causes. He continued to love humanity even when people turned away from Him in rebellion.
Some may object, pointing to statements that say God hates evil or sin. Indeed, just as God loves humanity unconditionally, He hates sin without compromise. His loving nature opposes sin as something distorted—an anomaly that does not arise from what is natural. Evil is a reality that threatens life itself and the well-being of created beings. God is not affected by sin in Himself, but He is affected by what it does to those who have fallen. God hates a condition, not a person. A human being, however, can live—or oscillate—between these two poles: love and hatred, both toward others and toward God.
God cannot, either simultaneously or at different times, both love and hate human beings. We, unfortunately, are capable of doing so. He is not capable of directing hatred toward people—human beings, however, are.
Without cause
At the same time, the Gospels teach that true love begins where there is no longer any reason to love—when no external cause remains, when the person beside us offers nothing, not even the smallest resource, advantage, or personal benefit. Love without cause is the most noble, refined, and elevated form of love one can experience.
Such a manifestation leaves nothing unchanged in a person’s life or character. Under its influence, the human being undergoes a transformation of identity and a deep ennobling of character. It works from within, from the heart. It drives fear from the heart and gives rise to lasting, resilient convictions. It is a subversive force, one that dismantles the cultural and social mold of the individual and brings about an inner restoration: “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come” (2 Corinthians 5:17).
Unconditional love has no expectations, yet it bears fruit. The first to benefit from that fruit are those who choose to love in this way. We are the first to partake of it. Love, peace, joy, patience, and faithfulness are the fruits of this tree. And from these fruits, others—those who have not yet encountered the depth of an eternal love—may also share.
Thus, the Lord Jesus seeks out people. They are not the ones searching for Him; rather, He is the one searching for them. The exclusivity of His dialogue, the unconditional acceptance He offers, and the unique, unrepeatable way in which He engages each person place within reach the solution prepared for their struggles. In truth, the answer to every problem and every sorrow we face is, ultimately, Him.
Mihai Miron invites us to discern the contours of a love that is difficult to grasp—a love that gives itself even when it finds nothing in us to make us worthy of it.