Most people settle for being liked, but everyone desires to be loved.
That line stayed with me this week—not because it’s clever, but because it feels true in a way that sits uncomfortably close to the bone. We spend so much of our lives trying to be liked. We curate ourselves. We avoid conflict. We keep conversations polite and nonintrusive. And yet, beneath all of it, there is a far deeper ache: the longing to be loved in a way that sees us, knows us, and doesn’t walk away.
And then along comes Jesus with a story that refuses to let us stay on the surface.
In Matthew 18:12–14, He speaks of a shepherd who notices that one sheep—a single, vulnerable, easily dismissed sheep—is missing. Ninety-nine remain safe, but the shepherd cannot rest until the one who wandered is found. Jesus doesn’t tell this parable to make us feel sentimental about sheep. He tells it to reveal the heart of God. God does not merely “like” humanity from a distance. God loves humanity enough to pursue us, to seek us, to leave comfort behind in order to draw us home.
And that is the mystery of the Incarnation: God comes looking for us.
In Christ, God crosses every distance—divine and human, eternal and temporal, holy and ordinary—not because we are likable, but because we are loved. Loved enough to be searched for when we are lost. Loved enough to be carried when we are too tired to walk. Loved enough to belong before we behave, and cherished before we change.
When we meditate on the Incarnation as God’s pursuit of humanity, it purifies our understanding of what it means to be neighbors. Loving our neighbor is not about maintaining pleasant relationships or polite coexistence. It is about seeing the dignity of each person with the eyes of the Shepherd who refuses to give up on even one. It is about recognizing that every life—especially the forgotten, the isolated, the inconvenient—is worth seeking out.
And maybe that’s where this reflection comes full circle. To be liked costs very little. To be loved costs everything. Jesus shows us that real love—divine love—moves toward those who wander, listens for those who cry out, and refuses to let anyone become invisible.