The Kind of Love That Follows You Home
A reflection by Pastor Dave from Bay Shore Church.
God’s love is not transactional
You know that feeling when someone loves you without keeping a scorecard? They don’t ask for your résumé of good deeds or cross-examine your past mistakes. They don’t stand there with arms crossed, tapping their foot until you finally get your act together. Instead, they just… appreciate you. Quietly, persistently. They notice when you’re tired and nobody else seems to see it. They leave the porch light on when you’re stumbling around in the dark.
This isn’t the kind of love our world usually celebrates. We’re used to love that comes with conditions, with fine print. Show me what you can do, and I’ll decide if you’re worth it. But God doesn’t operate like that. God pursues.
There’s this Hebrew word, radaph, that means “to pursue” or “to chase after.” When Psalm 23 says “surely goodness and mercy shall follow me,” the original language is actually more intense than that. It’s saying God’s mercy will hunt you down, chase after you, not to punish you, but to embrace you. No wag of the finger, just open arms.
This kind of love doesn’t get infuriated when you mess up. It doesn’t blow up when you fail. It just keeps showing up. Like the way morning light keeps finding its way through your curtains, no matter how tightly you’ve drawn them. Like hearing your favorite song drifting from somewhere down the street, just loud enough to remind you that you’re not walking through this alone.
Many of us grew up feeling that love has to be earned. Work hard enough, be good enough, do faith the “right” way, and maybe–just maybe, you’ll be worthy of it. But what if that’s not how it works at all? What if God’s love isn’t something you earn as payment for a good job? What if grace isn’t a paycheck?
What if the love that spoke the stars into existence isn’t sitting there waiting for you to finally get it right—but is already walking right beside you, already calling your name, already setting a place for you at the table, even in the middle of your deepest fears?
Richard Rohr, the Franciscan teacher, puts it beautifully:
“The people who know God well… always meet a lover, not a dictator.”
That’s the kind of love that actually changes us–not because it demands we be different, but because it makes transformation possible. It rewires how we see ourselves. It teaches us that we matter not because we’re perfect, but because we’re loved.
And here’s what happens when you start to believe that God’s love is not transactional: You begin to see other people differently. You stop keeping score. You stop measuring who deserves compassion and who doesn’t. You just start showing up for people–because that’s what love does.
That’s what we’re discovering at Bay Shore Church. We’re not trying to build something impressive or earn points with God. We’re creating a space where people can breathe in the kind of grace that doesn’t need to be earned.
Love that follows and changes you.
We show up because mercy showed up for us first. We serve because someone served us. We welcome people because we know what it feels like to be welcomed when we didn’t deserve it.
That’s what transformation really looks like. Not transaction. Not perfection. Just presence.
And sometimes, presence is the most powerful force in the world.
Because the kind of love that follows you home doesn’t just comfort you—it changes you. It makes you braver. It opens your heart. It completely reframes what church could be: not a place where you prove you’re worthy, but a community of people helping each other find their way home.
So if you’re exhausted, or wondering if there’s still room for you in this whole grace thing—come sit with us for a while. You’re not being hunted by judgment. You’re being followed by mercy. Every single day of your life.
Want to Go Deeper?
- Watch or read the sermon The Lord is My Shepherd.
- Check out how Fr. Gregory Boyle talks about radical mercy in Tattoos on the Heart
️ This Week’s Reflection
Take 10 minutes to think about a time when someone showed you unexpected kindness—no agenda, no strings attached. Write about it. What did that moment change in you? Then consider: what would it look like to offer that same kind of love to someone else this week?