Loving with All We Are

Date: Sunday, February 22, 2026 – First Sunday in Lent

Deuteronomy 6 is the theological heartbeat of Israel, and honestly, of the entire biblical narrative. It epitomizes the human story. It’s called the “Shema” (which is Hebrew for “Listen up!”) and it goes like this: “Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength…” This isn’t just ancient liturgy. It’s the organizing principle of reality. When Jesus is asked about the greatest commandment, He goes straight here. This is it. This is what it’s all about.

But notice: this isn’t “obey God” or “fear God” as the first command, though both have their place. It’s “love God.” With everything you are. Whole-hearted, soul-deep, strength-draining love. That’s the foundation. Everything else in the Law flows from this. You don’t white-knuckle your way into obedience; you fall in love with God, and obedience becomes the natural pattern of life.

Moses knows how easily religion becomes rote, so he gives them a strategy: integrate this into everything. Talk about God’s commands when you sit, walk, lie down, and get up. Tie them on your hands and forehead. Write them on your doorframes. Make loving God so woven into daily life that it’s unavoidable. This isn’t legalism; it’s intentionality. Love that’s relegated to Sunday morning isn’t the “all your heart, soul, and strength” kind of love Moses is calling for.

And then comes the warning: when you get into the land, when you’re living in houses you didn’t build and eating from vineyards you didn’t plant, be careful. Prosperity has a way of making us forget our dependence on God. You start attributing your success to your own effort, and before you know it, you’ve replaced the Giver with the gifts. That’s functional idolatry, and it’s the most subtle kind. It’s also the most common kind, deeply engrained into our culture today.

The chapter ends with instructions for parenting: when your kids ask “what’s the deal with all these commands?” you tell them the story. You rehearse the redemption narrative: slavery, deliverance, covenant, blessing. The commands aren’t arbitrary rules from a cosmic killjoy; they’re the wisdom of a loving Father who knows what leads to life.

Psalm 45 is a royal wedding song, which at first seems disconnected, but here’s the thread: it’s ultimately about a King who is righteous, who loves justice and hates wickedness, and who is worthy of total devotion. It points forward to Christ, the King we’re called to love with all we are, because He loved us first, and died so that we could live with Him forever.

Devotional Prompts:

If love for God is supposed to be the core of your faith, what does that actually look like in your daily rhythms beyond religious activities?
What gifts or blessings in your life are currently tempting you to forget your dependence on the Giver?
How are you passing on not just religious rules and soundbites, but the story of God’s redemption to the next generation in your sphere of influence?
What would change if you truly believed that God’s commands are given out of love for you, not control over you?
In what ways have you compartmentalized God into “religious time” rather than integrating love for Him into every part of life?

Prayer: Father, You’ve loved us first and called us to love You back with everything we are. Forgive us for settling for religious performance instead of relationship, for obeying out of duty instead of devotion. Weave love for You into every conversation, every decision, every moment of our lives. When prosperity tempts us toward forgetfulness, anchor us in gratitude. Make us people who live the story of Your redemption so compellingly that the next generation can’t help but ask, “What’s this all about?” Amen.