Love is exhausting. Honestly, if you’ve ever tried to maintain a "perfect" relationship or keep your patience with a difficult neighbor on three hours of sleep, you know exactly what I mean. Most of us treat love like a transaction. It’s a bank account. I give a little, you give a little, and we both hope nobody goes into overdraft. But there is this short, almost blink-and-you-miss-it phrase in the New Testament—1 John 4:19—that completely flips the script. We love because he first loved us.
It’s not just a nice sentiment for a Hallmark card. It’s a biological and theological reset.
Think about it. Most people spend their lives trying to generate love from scratch. We think it’s a muscle we have to flex or a feeling we have to conjure up through sheer willpower. But the logic of this verse suggests that human love isn't a primary source; it’s a reflection. We are basically mirrors. If you stand in a dark room, you can’t reflect anything. You need a light source to hit you first.
The Problem With Self-Generated Love
The world tells you that "love is all you need" (thanks, Beatles), but it rarely tells you where to get it when the tank is empty. If you’re trying to love your spouse or your kids based on your own mood or their behavior, you’re going to hit a wall. Fast.
Psychologically speaking, we see this in attachment theory. Dr. John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth studied how children develop. A child doesn't just "decide" to be loving and secure. They learn to love because they were first loved by a caregiver. When a parent mirrors affection, the child’s brain literally wires itself to understand empathy. This is the secular version of we love because he first loved—the realization that we are recipients before we are givers.
If you don't have a source, you become a "clanging cymbal," as the Apostle Paul put it in 1 Corinthians. You’re making noise, but there’s no soul in it. You're burnt out because you're trying to give away something you haven't actually accepted for yourself.
Breaking Down the "First" in First Loved
What does "first" actually mean here? It’s about initiative.
In most religions and philosophies throughout history, the burden is on the human. You do the rituals. You say the mantras. You climb the ladder. If you do enough, maybe—just maybe—the divine will notice you and send some affection your way. But the phrase we love because he first loved says the Divine moved first. While we were still messy, inconsistent, and frankly, kind of annoying, the love was already there.
St. Augustine talked about this in his Confessions. He described a God who was "more inward than my innermost self." He realized he wasn't searching for a God who was hiding; he was running from a God who was already pursuing him.
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This changes the pressure. If you believe you are loved fundamentally, regardless of your performance today, your "output" of love toward others stops being a chore. It becomes an overflow. You aren't loving people to get something; you're loving them because you've already gotten everything.
The Neurobiology of Divine Affection
Let's get nerdy for a second. When we experience unconditional love—or even the concept of it—our brains release oxytocin. This "cuddle hormone" lowers cortisol (the stress hormone). When you internalize the idea of being "first loved," you are essentially lowering your internal threat level.
You’re no longer in survival mode.
When you’re in survival mode, you can’t love people well. You’re too busy protecting yourself. You’re defensive. You’re keeping score. But the assurance of being loved "first" moves you from the amygdala (fear center) to the prefrontal cortex (the part of the brain responsible for empathy and complex social connection).
Why We Get This Wrong So Often
People often turn we love because he first loved into a new law. They hear it as: "God loved you, so you better love others, or else."
That’s not it. That’s just the same old transaction with a religious coat of paint.
The Greek word for love used here is agape. Unlike eros (romantic love) or philia (friendship), agape is a choice. It’s a commitment to the well-being of another regardless of the cost to yourself. But here’s the kicker: you can’t "agape" someone on an empty stomach.
I remember talking to a counselor about burnout. I was trying to help everyone, doing all the "loving" things, but I was miserable and resentful. He told me, "You're trying to be the ocean when you're actually a pipe." A pipe doesn't create the water; it just carries it. If the pipe is disconnected from the reservoir, it’s just a hollow metal tube.
Most of us are disconnected pipes. We’ve forgotten the "because" part of the sentence.
Radical Examples of This in Action
Look at someone like Corrie ten Boom. She survived a Nazi concentration camp. After the war, she came face-to-face with one of the guards who had been cruel to her sister. He didn't recognize her, but he asked for her forgiveness.
She later wrote that she felt absolutely nothing—no love, no forgiveness. She was cold. But she remembered the principle: we love because he first loved. She prayed and basically told God, "I can’t do this. You have to give me your love for him." As she took his hand, she described a literal surge of warmth and compassion that she knew didn't come from her own heart.
That is the "because" in action. It’s a supernatural fuel for situations where human fuel runs out.
The Social Implications
If we actually lived like we were first loved, social media would look a lot different. We wouldn't need to "win" every argument to feel validated. Our identity wouldn't be tied to how many people liked our latest post or whether we had the "right" opinion on the news of the day.
We’d be secure. And secure people are the only ones capable of truly radical kindness.
How to Actually Apply This Without Being "Churchy"
Okay, so how do you actually live this out? It sounds great on paper, but life is messy.
First, you have to stop trying to be "good."
Seriously.
If you spend your energy trying to be a "loving person," you'll just become a self-conscious actor. Instead, focus on the "first loved" part. Spend time contemplating the idea that you are accepted exactly as you are. Whether you do that through prayer, meditation, or just sitting in silence, the goal is the same: let the "light" hit the mirror.
Secondly, audit your resentment.
When you feel resentful toward someone, it’s usually a sign that you’re trying to love them out of your own limited resources. It’s an indicator light on your dashboard saying "Low Fuel." Instead of beating yourself up for being "unloving," take it as a cue to reconnect with your source.
- Morning Reset: Before checking your phone (the ultimate source of "not enoughness"), remind yourself: "I am already loved. I have nothing to prove today."
- The "Mirror" Test: When someone is difficult, ask yourself: "Am I reacting to them, or am I reflecting something higher?"
- Grace for Failure: When you inevitably fail to be loving, don't spiral. The verse doesn't say "We love perfectly." It says we love because. Your failure doesn't cancel out the "first love" you received. It just proves you need it.
The Actionable Insight
The shift from "I must love" to "I am loved, therefore I love" is the most significant psychological and spiritual shift a human can make. It moves you from a state of scarcity to a state of abundance.
Start by identifying one person you find it impossible to love right now. Stop trying to "fix" your feelings for them. Instead, spend five minutes a day for the next week focusing entirely on the ways you have been forgiven, supported, and loved by others (and the Divine) throughout your life. Don't even think about the difficult person. Just soak in the "first love."
By day seven, watch how your internal posture toward that difficult person begins to shift without you even trying to force it. That’s the "because" doing the work. That’s the mirror finally catching the light.