Wednesday 5 November 2025

In today’s readings, both St Paul and Jesus talk about love —
but not the kind the world sells in songs and slogans.
This is costly love —
the kind that asks for everything and gives even more.

Paul begins with a strange phrase:

“Owe nothing to anyone, except the debt of love.”

He’s not talking about credit cards or mortgages;
he’s talking about charity as a permanent debt.

Every day, we owe one another kindness, mercy, forgiveness —
because we ourselves live on borrowed grace.
God has cancelled our infinite debt in Christ,
and now we spend our lives paying it forward.

It’s a debt that never runs out,
because love isn’t something you “pay off”; it’s who you become.

“Love is the fulfilment of the law,” Paul says.
You can keep every commandment and still miss the point if you don’t love.
But if you truly love —
if your love reflects Christ’s Cross —
you will already be keeping the law without counting.

Then Jesus speaks, and His words land hard:

“If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters — yes, even his own life — he cannot be my disciple.”

He doesn’t mean we should despise our families.
He means that nothing — not even the dearest things — can come before God.
Discipleship is not polite religion.
It’s surrender.
It’s carrying the cross with eyes fixed on the Kingdom.

Christ isn’t recruiting admirers; He’s calling followers.
He doesn’t say, “Like Me on Sundays.”
He says, “Come after Me on Friday.”

He’s warning us that love without sacrifice is sentiment,
and faith without the cross is fiction.

Jesus gives two small parables — about building and battle.
A man builds a tower without calculating the cost.
A king goes to war without counting his soldiers.
Both end in failure.

Faith, He says, must be deliberate, not decorative.
You can’t stumble into discipleship by accident.
It’s a choice renewed every day —
to say, “Lord, everything I have is Yours.”

St Charles Borromeo, whose feast we kept yesterday, lived this out.
He gave away his wealth, spent his strength, risked his life for his flock.
He counted the cost — and paid it gladly.

The paradox of the Gospel is that the costliest love is also the freest.
When you finally surrender everything to God,
you discover that He gives it back — transformed.

When Abraham raised the knife,
God gave him his son back as a promise.
When Mary said, “Be it done,”
God gave her the Saviour of the world.
When Jesus laid down His life,
the Father raised it to glory.

That’s the pattern of grace:
you lose what you cling to,
you keep what you give away.

So yes — discipleship costs.
But it costs less than sin.
Sin costs your soul;
the Cross costs your pride.

Paul says love fulfils the law;
Jesus shows how — by giving Himself entirely.

That’s why the Eucharist is the perfect expression of both readings.
Here, we meet the Love that held nothing back.
Here, we learn what it means to “owe nothing but love.”
Every time the priest lifts the chalice,
it’s Christ saying again: “This is My Body, given for you.”

That’s the shape of real love — broken, poured out, risen again.

So today, let’s count the cost — and pay it with joy.
Because love like this doesn’t deplete you; it completes you.

Discipleship is not cheap, but it’s worth every drop.
And at the end, when you stand before the Lord,
you’ll see that nothing given to Him was ever lost —
only multiplied into eternity.

“Owe nothing to anyone,” says Paul,
“except the debt of love.”

It’s the only debt that will make you truly free.