Living Out Love: From Consuming Fire to Radical Community

The book of Hebrews presents us with one of the most dramatic transitions in all of Scripture. In one breath, we're confronted with the truth that "our God is a consuming fire" a statement that evokes awe, reverence, and perhaps even a healthy fear. In the very next breath, we're given this simple yet profound instruction: "Let brotherly love continue."

From fire to function. From vertical worship to horizontal relationship. From blazing holiness to practical, everyday kindness.

This isn't just a literary shift it's a theological blueprint for how our beliefs about God should shape how we treat the people around us. What we believe about the consuming fire of God's holiness must directly influence how we extend the consuming warmth of His love to others.

The Challenge of Continuing Love

"Let brotherly love continue." Three simple words that carry the weight of a lifetime's obedience.

When we first encounter Christ, love flows naturally. We discover a new family brothers and sisters in faith and the joy is intoxicating. We can't wait to gather, to share life, to encourage one another. As 1 John 3:14 reminds us, "We know that we have passed out of death into life because we love the brothers."

Jesus himself made this the defining mark of discipleship: "By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another" (John 13:35). Not by our doctrinal precision, not by our moral superiority, but by our love. Brotherly love is the evidence of our salvation—it should be the biggest, brightest, and loudest billboard of our faith.

But here's the problem: over time, that love can fade.

Life wears us down. Pressures mount. The same people who once delighted us can begin to irritate us. Small misunderstandings build into walls. Hardship has a way of either drawing us together or driving us apart, and without intentionality, we often drift toward division rather than unity.

The solution? We will it. We choose love even when it's not easy.

This means choosing our words carefully, refusing to gossip or tear someone down. It means being quick to forgive, slow to criticize, and eager to serve one another. It means assuming the best about each other rather than immediately jumping to the worst conclusions.

George Whitefield once wrote to John Wesley during a period of theological disagreement: "Why should we dispute when there is no possibility of convincing? Will it not destroy brotherly love and take from us that sweetness of soul which I pray God may always subsist between us?"

How many relationships have we sacrificed on the altar of being right? How many times have we willfully continued a disagreement that only served to divide us from someone God placed in our lives?

We need a willful, Christ-like love that refuses to quit. A brotherly love that continues no matter what.

The Power of Hospitality

"Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unaware" (Hebrews 13:2).

In the early church, hospitality wasn't optional it was essential. Hotels weren't safe, and new believers often found themselves ostracized from their families. Christians relied on one another for homes, food, fellowship, and safety.

The Greek word used here is *philoxenia* literally "love of strangers." It's a beautiful companion to *philadelphia*, the love of brothers mentioned in the previous verse. Together, they paint a complete picture: we're called to love not only those inside the family of faith but also those outside it.

But just like brotherly love, hospitality can grow cold. We've all had experiences where someone overstayed their welcome or took advantage of our generosity. It's tempting to close our doors and guard our space.

Yet the writer urges us: don't give up on hospitality. You never know who you're hosting or how God might work through your open door.

After the fall of communism in Germany, former dictator Erich Honecker was released from the hospital—dying and homeless. A Christian pastor named Uwe Holmer took him and his wife into his home. This was the very leader who had persecuted Holmer's family for years. When asked why, Holmer said, "Our Lord's challenged us to take in all who are weary and heavy laden, both in soul and in body."

That's hospitality shaped by grace.

Hospitality matters because it's where real relationship happens. You can't truly know someone until you've sat at a table with them. Sharing meals builds shared hearts. A dinner table can be almost a sacramental place where God's grace flows through conversation and community.

Hospitality opens doors for the gospel. A warm meal can soften a hard heart faster than a sharp argument ever could.

The Movement of Empathy

"Remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated, since you also are in the body" (Hebrews 13:3).

The early church lived this out tangibly. They had compassion on those in prison, even when it cost them their own possessions. Their love wasn't theoretical it was concrete, risky, and sacrificial.

But empathy, like love and hospitality, can fade. We're constantly surrounded by images of suffering on the news, online, in our social media feeds. Sometimes we become numb to it. It's easier to scroll past than to stop and feel what others are feeling.

Yet empathy is part of what makes us Christ-like. Jesus didn't observe our suffering from a distance. He entered into it with us. He took on our flesh, walked among us, experienced our hardships, and ultimately died our death. The incarnation is God's ultimate act of empathy.

When we remember the imprisoned, the persecuted, the mistreated, we're reflecting the heart of our Savior. Empathy says, "I may not be in your cell, but I'm with you in spirit. You are not forgotten."

Community Requires Proximity

Here's the truth: community only happens with proximity. You cannot have genuine community at a distance. You can't show love, hospitality, or empathy from afar.

Being part of a community being a "villager" means showing up physically. It means being true to your word. It means having people in your space and entering into theirs. It means stepping into someone else's mess for no other reason than to help and support them.

We live in a culture where many complain about lacking community while simultaneously refusing to engage in it. We say we'll show up, then something better comes along. We wait until the last minute to commit, hedging our bets in case a more appealing option appears.

But nothing shows love more than doing what you say you're going to do. Nothing builds community like consistent presence.

The World Is Watching

The world knows more about what Christians stand against than who we stand for. They know less of our love, hospitality, and empathy than they do about what we oppose and who we don't like.

But when we let brotherly love continue, when we let hospitality flow freely, and when we let empathy move us deeply, people can't ignore the fact that we love Jesus and that Jesus loves them.

This is what it means to be the family of God in a world that desperately needs to see what His love looks like in action.

The God who is a consuming fire has consumed us with His love. The only natural response is to live that love out continually, tangibly, sacrificially.

Let's be the church in action. Let's be known by our love.