Call of Love

Missionaries are called to love. No one disputes that—at least in theory. In practice, however, love can become a challenge, especially amid the complex, demanding realities of fieldwork, intensified by culture shock and complicated relationships with both local communities and one’s own team. Through the Apostle John, God revealed this revolutionary truth to humanity: God is love (1 John 4:8). Yes, God has love, and God does love—but more than that, God is love. When missionaries represent this God to people, they must inevitably represent his love. This presupposition—that all love originates in him—applies universally, from our closest relationships to unreached people groups living on the other side of the globe. When God calls us to love our neighbors, both near and far, doing so requires significant skill in cross-cultural understanding and contextualization.

Ministry of Correction

2 Timothy 3:16 states that God’s Word is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness. Likewise, 2 Timothy 4:2 affirms that God’s Word corrects, rebukes, and encourages. It is through the Word of God that the servants of God are thoroughly equipped for every good work (2 Tim 3:17). While even encouragement requires cultural translation—and can, in some contexts, be misunderstood as insincerity or a lack of humility—it remains more broadly acceptable across cultures in the work of missiological equipping. By contrast, the more inherently confrontational aspects of rebuking and correcting must be carried out with a greater measure of patience and careful instruction (2 Tim 4:2b), grounded in love.

Love focuses on the recipient. Some missionaries express love in ways that make sense to them, yet the other person may not recognize it as love. Parents may say they love their children and provide everything for them, but it is the children’s own perception that determines whether they feel loved. “For God so loved the world…” (John 3:16). Even God demonstrated his love by sending his Son into the world so that he would become one of us—transmitting his love in a way we could perceive and receive. A love relationship is not based on my own interpretations and feelings of love, but on trust. Both the giver and recipient of love must be able to trust each other, which requires time and meaningful interactions—sometimes involving misunderstandings and conflict resolution.

There is a reason Jesus spent significant time with people—sometimes years. Love requires more than a one- hour sermon or class. Discipleship is more than a year-long Bible study course; it is a school of life together— sometimes a lifelong journey together. Moreover, unless you become incarnated into the recipients’ setting, they will be unlikely to take you as one of them or accept your rebukes and corrections from God’s Word as coming from genuine concern. They may even reject your efforts.

When Love Meets Resistance

Extra effort is required on the giver’s part for such love to take shape. That is why God came down to humanity. He “first” loved us (1 John 4:19). Even when the same love is offered, it takes the prayerful work of the Holy Spirit for recipients to affirm and embrace it. If the receiver is not interested or rejects the giver’s love, it takes Christ’s work in the giver’s heart to overcome the wounded feeling of rejection and disappointment, and to move to the next stage—still letting the receiver know you care.

I have seen this principle play out in both successful and unsuccessful ministry encounters. Back in Kenya, I confronted two local church leaders over their attempt to connect with a cult organization from abroad that disguised itself as a benevolent donor. Both men came from a slum background, and financial help meant a great deal to them. The same disciplinary actions and coaching sessions were applied to both. After long, exhausting consultations, one was encouraged and completely severed ties with the spiritual predators. The other, however, rejected the rebuke and spread rumors that my intervention was motivated by jealousy, calling it a witch hunt. Months later, this church leader and his followers left us and formed their own organization, apparently in partnership with the cult.

A similar dynamic occurred in a mentoring group I led at a seminary where I taught in the Philippines, to which students came from various Asian countries. During a student-led ministry practicum, I corrected two different students, intending only to help them improve their preaching skills and become more prudent communicators of God’s Word. One student “bit the bullet” and took on extra work to sharpen his skills. The other left my mentoring group and joined another, later telling my wife, Eunice, and me that he felt disrespected by my advice. While cultural differences cannot be ignored—one was from a communist country where orders from superiors were taken seriously and where structured self-criticism was a common practice, and the other from a country where caste traditions still shaped social interactions—it seemed I had not yet built enough trust with the latter student for my words to be received as intended. One took my correction as an opportunity to grow; the other perceived it as prejudice and condescension.

These experiences taught me a vital lesson on the foundational issue of mutual trust in equipping the servants of God. Without sufficient trust, even well-intentioned rebukes and corrections may not work. Receivers can only determine, over time, whether a correction stems from genuine love for their growth or simply from the giver’s sense of duty. Not all recipients speak the same “love language.”1 Nevertheless, for those who are hurt—whatever the reason—a missionary must be especially sensitive in giving correction and continually reevaluate his approach.

Similar Kinds, Less Friction

Over the years, in disciple-making efforts across cultures, I have noticed that correction from same-culture brothers and sisters tends to cause less friction. In my African ministry, I had to challenge ungodly practices embedded in local cultures. When I confronted them, the response was minimal. But when the same challenge came from one of my disciples—someone from the same tribal background as those practicing the rituals— it was received far more seriously, leading to genuine change. Time and again, I have seen this principle verified: social, cognitive (shared mindset), and economic homogeneity can open doors for deeper, more lasting influence.2 This underscores the necessity of incarnation.

Biblical love compels us toward incarnational mission.3 Jesus—the Son of God—came to dwell among us. His incarnation demonstrates the depth of God’s love across all cultures. It amazes me that roughly 90 percent of Jesus’ earthly life was spent simply becoming a Jew—learning the culture, serving his family. The Son of God chose to become one of us. The one who created and sustains galaxies came to give his life for us. That is the motivation for incarnational mission. Who are we to refuse his example of love when called to his mission? It cannot—should not—be done on our own terms. It must be and can be done according to Christ’s example.

When I first went to Kenya in the early 1990s, I must admit I had no particular love for the African people—it was more about seeking human approval. But God transformed my heart and gave me a genuine love for the Kenyan people, and later for Africans, Koreans, Chinese, and Filipinos. Now that Eunice and I are back in the U.S., God is continuing this work—teaching us to love our neighbors wherever we go.

Love changes the way missions is done. And that love must be felt by those missionaries serve—in ways they can relate to the God who is love.