Good Samaritan Lessons on Loving People You Disagree With

From the sermon preached on September 13, 2026
The Good Samaritan parable was never meant to be a comfortable bedtime story. It was told to a man who wanted a technicality, a loophole that would let him love only the people he already liked. Jesus answered him with a story where the hero was the last person he wanted to admit could be one, and the answer still lands the same way today: your neighbor is the person you have already decided not to love.

That question, who counts as my neighbor, is really a question about who gets to be excluded from love. Most of us have a mental list, even if we never say it out loud. The parable in Luke 10 exists to dismantle that list one assumption at a time, asking us to look honestly at how quickly we sort people into worthy and unworthy.

This post walks through what Jesus actually said, why it still confronts the way we talk about the people we disagree with, and what it might look like to practice agape love in a culture built on contempt.

How Do You Practice Loving Enemies When Everyone Feels Like the Opposition?

Loving enemies sounds noble in theory and nearly impossible in practice, especially when the enemy has a face you scroll past every day. There is a reason the word "them" carries so much weight. Once someone becomes a them, they stop being a person with a story and become a category you are allowed to dismiss.

The Greek word for love that Jesus used is agape, and it does not mean warm feelings toward people who are easy to like. Agape means an unselfish, unconditional love that shows up in action whether or not it is returned. Loving enemies, in this sense, has almost nothing to do with how you feel about someone and everything to do with what you are willing to do for them anyway.

Here is the uncomfortable part: everyone believes their own contempt is justified, and nobody thinks of themselves as the unloving one. It is always the other side that has gone too far. Loving enemies starts by admitting that you have a them too, and that the label says more about your fear than it does about the person wearing it.

A small, honest step today is naming your own "them" out loud, even just to yourself, and asking what you actually know about their story beyond the label.

What Does It Look Like to Love Your Neighbor When You Would Rather Be Right?

Love your neighbor as yourself is one of the most quoted lines in the Bible and one of the least practiced. In Luke 10, an expert in the law already knew the command by heart, pulling it straight from Deuteronomy 6 without hesitation. Knowing the command was never the problem; living inside its cost was.

The man's next move is telling: he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus to define exactly who qualified as a neighbor and who did not. That instinct is deeply human. When love asks something expensive of us, our default is to narrow its definition rather than expand our willingness.

Love your neighbor gets easy to say and hard to do the moment the neighbor disagrees with you on something that matters. Research on snap judgment shows people decide whether someone is trustworthy within milliseconds, and that first impression rarely changes even with more time. Only a real conversation, one where you actually listen, has the power to interrupt that reflex.

The small step here is simple and costly at once: have one real conversation this week with someone whose views make you uncomfortable, and let the goal be understanding rather than winning.

Who Is My Neighbor, Really, When the Answer Is Someone You Did Not Expect?

Who is my neighbor is the exact question the expert in the law asked Jesus, hoping for a boundary line he could live inside. Jesus answered with a story instead of a rule, because rules can be argued and stories have a way of finding you before you can defend yourself. A man is beaten, robbed, and left half dead on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, stripped of every marker that would tell a passerby who he was.

A priest sees him and crosses the road, and a Levite comes closer, sees him clearly, and still crosses the road. Then comes the Samaritan, a man the original audience had already decided could not be trusted, let alone praised as a hero. He is the one who stops, bandages the wounds, and pays for the man's recovery out of his own pocket.

Who is my neighbor gets answered not with a definition but with a reversal. The listener has to imagine himself as the one lying in the ditch, and ask whether he could receive love from the very person he had written off. That is the harder question, and it is the one that actually changes people.

The small step today is to picture the person you would least expect to help you, and sit with what it would mean to receive love from them. Let that discomfort do its work before you move on.

What Does Luke 10 Teach Us About Being a Good Neighbor?

Luke 10 is built around a single exchange that unpacks the whole shape of neighborly love. Luke 10:27 records the answer the expert in the law gave when Jesus asked him how he read the law: love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself. The rest of the chapter exists to answer what that actually looks like on the ground.

Here is a breakdown of the story's structure and what each figure represents.

1. The Man in the Ditch
Role in the story: The victim, stripped of every identity marker that would normally signal who deserves help.
What it reveals: Love cannot be conditioned on knowing someone's tribe, politics, or background first.

2. The Priest and the Levite
Role in the story: Religious insiders who see clearly and choose comfort over compassion.
What it reveals: Knowing the right answer is not the same as living it out.

3. The Samaritan
Role in the story: The outsider the audience had already labeled untrustworthy, who becomes the hero of the story.
What it reveals: Love often shows up from the direction we least expect and least want to credit.

The parable also lays out a pattern for what compassion in action actually requires. It typically includes:
  • Noticing the person in front of you instead of looking away
  • Moving toward the need rather than crossing to the other side
  • Offering practical, tangible help, not just good intentions
  • Absorbing a real cost, whether time, money, or reputation.

Finding a Community Across Loudoun County That Takes This Seriously

Almost everyone carries some version of the tension in this story: the quiet exhaustion of living in a culture that rewards outrage and punishes nuance. It shows up in the group chat you mute, the family dinner you brace for, the neighbor whose yard sign makes your stomach tighten before you have even talked to them. That fatigue is not unique to any one town or political lean; it is simply what it feels like to be a person paying attention right now.

If you are looking for a place to work through that tension with other people instead of alone, Terraforma gathers Sunday mornings at Brambleton Middle School in Ashburn, drawing folks from across the Loudoun County corridor, including Brambleton, South Riding, Aldie, Willowsford, Stone Ridge, and Herndon. Whether your week runs through the Dulles tech corridor or the carpool line closer to home, there is a seat open for the conversation this parable is inviting you into.

Choosing Love Over Fear, One Neighbor at a Time

The Good Samaritan parable never resolves into an easy formula; it simply asks whether you can receive love from someone you had already decided to write off. Jesus told this story to move the question from the head to the heart, because knowing the right answer was never the point. Loving the actual, specific, disagreeable neighbor in front of you is.
Take one step toward belonging by coming to see a Sunday gathering for yourself. Plan your visit here for service times, location details, and what to expect when you walk in.

Frequently Asked Questions

How do I stop judging people who are different from me?
Start by noticing the speed of your own snap judgments; most people decide whether someone is trustworthy within milliseconds, long before any real information arrives. Slowing down enough to have an actual conversation is what interrupts that reflex. The Good Samaritan parable suggests the fix is relational, not informational.
How do I love people I deeply disagree with?
Agape love does not require agreement; it requires action regardless of how you feel. Begin by naming the specific person or group you have mentally written off and asking what you genuinely do not know about their story. Loving someone you disagree with usually starts with curiosity before it ever becomes affection.
What does unconditional love in action actually look like?
 In the parable, it looked like a stranger stopping, bandaging wounds, and covering the cost of recovery for someone he had every social reason to ignore. Unconditional love shows up practically, not just emotionally. It costs something real, whether time, money, or comfort.
Why does the Good Samaritan story still matter today?
The categories have changed, but the instinct to sort people into "us" and "them" has not. The parable confronts whatever group modern readers have quietly decided is safe to dismiss, which is exactly why it still stings.
What is agape love in the Bible?
 Agape is the Greek word for a selfless, unconditional love that acts for someone's good regardless of whether it is deserved or returned. It is distinct from affection or attraction, and it is the standard Jesus points to throughout Luke 10.

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