What Is Real Love? Reclaiming a Biblical Definition After Spiritual Manipulation


For many Christians, the word “love” has been so twisted, misused, and weaponized that it barely resembles what Scripture actually teaches. If you’ve ever been told that “loving like Jesus” means tolerating abuse, accepting toxic behavior, or remaining silent to keep the peace—you’re not alone. Somewhere along the line, love got distorted into something sentimental, soft, and self-erasing.

It’s time to reclaim what love actually is.

Because real love is not spineless. It’s not enabling. It’s not rooted in guilt. Real love is strong. It’s discerning. It’s truthful. And in a world—and sometimes a church—that confuses love with appeasement, we desperately need to recover the biblical definition.

Love Is Not Appeasement

Too many churches teach that love is about being endlessly agreeable. That loving someone means never making them uncomfortable, never confronting their behavior, never creating distance. But that’s not love—that’s appeasement.

Appeasement avoids conflict to maintain the illusion of peace. But real love enters conflict when necessary. It addresses sin. It names abuse. It doesn’t prioritize harmony over holiness.

When we appease people in the name of love, we allow sin to grow in the shadows. We end up protecting the comfort of the abuser rather than the safety of the abused. That’s not the way of Jesus.

Love Rejoices in the Truth

1 Corinthians 13 is often quoted at weddings, but one small phrase is often overlooked: “Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth” (v. 6).

Love and truth are deeply connected. You cannot separate them. If your version of love requires you to deny what’s real—to ignore manipulation, to overlook lies, to pretend emotional abuse isn’t happening—it’s not biblical love.

Love tells the truth. Lovingly, yes. Humbly, yes. But clearly. If your boundaries make someone uncomfortable, that doesn’t mean you’re failing to love them. It may mean you’re finally starting to.

Love Protects

“Love always protects…” (1 Cor. 13:7)

What a powerful phrase. Love protects—not just others, but yourself as well. God doesn’t call you to sacrifice your safety, your sanity, or your voice in the name of love. Protecting yourself from ongoing emotional abuse isn’t selfish. It’s wise.

Too many churches teach people—especially women—that love means staying. That love means enduring. That love means absorbing the blow again and again without ever resisting. But Jesus never asked his followers to be doormats. He asked them to be discerning, wise, and courageous.

Protective love isn’t love that cuts off or cancels without cause. It’s love that says, “I’m not going to allow you to harm me anymore—because that’s not good for either of us.”

Jesus Loved with Boundaries

We often forget that Jesus had boundaries. He didn’t allow everyone full access to him. In fact, John 2:24 says, “But Jesus did not entrust himself to them, for he knew all people.” That wasn’t bitterness—it was wisdom. He knew that not everyone could be trusted with his vulnerability.

Jesus walked away from crowds (Luke 4:30). He called out toxic religious leaders (Matthew 23). He didn’t chase after those who rejected him (Mark 10:21–22). He knew how to love people without letting them control or manipulate him.

If Jesus had boundaries, you can too.

Performative Love vs. Principled Love

Let’s be honest—many of us have learned performative love. That is, a version of love that’s more about appearances than truth. Performative love asks, “What will people think if I walk away?” or “What will the church say if I set this boundary?”

It’s love rooted in fear. Fear of judgment. Fear of rejection. Fear of looking like the “unforgiving” one.

But principled love is different. Principled love is rooted in conviction, not coercion. It seeks the good of others and the protection of truth. It isn’t driven by guilt or spiritual pressure—it’s driven by the character of God.

Principled love says: “I love you, but I will not tolerate emotional abuse.”
“I forgive you, but I will not allow continued access.”
“I pray for your healing, but I will not betray my own.”

This is the kind of love Jesus modeled.

Healing from False Guilt

If you’ve been taught that love means being endlessly available and endlessly hurt, chances are you’ve been carrying a heavy load of false guilt. Maybe you’ve walked away from a toxic relationship and wondered, “Am I unloving? Am I disobeying God?” Maybe you’ve been told you’re hard-hearted or unforgiving because you finally said “no more.”

Please hear this: that guilt is not from God.

God doesn’t ask you to stay in relationships that damage your soul. He doesn’t call you to absorb someone else’s unrepentant sin forever. He doesn’t shame you for protecting your peace and your heart.

False guilt is a tool of control. Real conviction leads to freedom and peace.

Relearning Love

It takes time to relearn what real love looks like when you've been spiritually manipulated. It takes time to untangle performance from principle, guilt from conviction, and trauma from theology. But here’s the truth you can hold onto:

Real love is honest.
Real love is protective.
Real love doesn’t enable sin.
Real love reflects the character of Christ—full of grace and truth.


Rooted in Jesus Grace,

Mara Wellspring 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Charisma Trap: The Hidden Costs of Visionary Leadership

Image
In today’s church culture, charisma and vision often take center stage. Leaders with magnetic personalities, eloquent communication, and a bold sense of mission can generate impressive momentum. Churches grow. Excitement builds. People feel part of something significant. But what happens when that vision, however compelling, becomes the foundation of the church’s identity? What if the very qualities that spark growth also plant the seeds of dysfunction? The Allure of a Good Vision In many churches, especially larger or non-denominational ones, there’s a sense that  this  church has discovered a more effective, more world-changing expression of Christianity. Vision nights are filled with language like,  “We’re here to transform our city”  or  “This church is the hope of the world.” And the vision often includes genuinely good things: attend prayer meetings, join a small group, serve faithfully, build healthy spiritual rhythms. Who could argue with that? These are...
Read more

About Me

Image
  A Journey of Healing and Truth: My Story of Leaving an Unhealthy Church I have been a Christian my entire life. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a part of the church — volunteering in countless capacities, raising my kids in its embrace, going on mission trips, serving in camp ministry, and being a small group leader. I thought I had it all figured out. My life in church was good — I was popular, surrounded by church friends, and doing what I thought was the right thing. Then, COVID hit. Everything changed. The church shut down, and with it, so did everything I thought I knew about church life. For a while, everything was taken away. The activities, the meetings, the fellowship — it all disappeared. But through it all, I still had Jesus. I still sought Him. And in my seeking, my eyes began to open. For the first time, I started seeing the church differently. I began to see the church as an institution. I began to notice how polarized people had become. There was a disturb...
Read more

About This Blog

Image
When the church breaks your trust, but not your faith.  I never expected to be the kind of person who would write about church hurt. I believed in accountability. In asking hard questions. In searching the Scriptures. I wasn’t reckless with my trust. But sometimes even caution doesn’t protect you from spiritual abuse—especially when it’s wrapped in charisma, Scripture, and good intentions. This blog is my quiet place to process. To name things I can’t say out loud. To speak gently and truthfully about what happens when church becomes unsafe—and how to imagine something better. I’m writing not as an expert, but as someone who has lived through the slow unraveling of trust in a place that once felt like home. Someone who still loves Jesus but can no longer unsee what I’ve seen. Someone learning that safety, honesty, and healthy community are not too much to ask from the Body of Christ. If you’re wrestling with your own questions… If you’ve felt the ache of betrayal in a place that wa...
Read more