Greatness Is Sacrifice
I want to confess something to you—sometimes, I’m what you might call a strategic sacrificer. That’s a fancy way of saying I like to feel sacrificial as long as it doesn’t disrupt my comfort too much. Like recently, after a long day when my wife and I were both tired, the dinner question got passed back and forth with no one wanting to decide. When she asked, “Could you cook tonight?” I said yes, ready to be the loving husband. And then, instead of actually cooking, I opened DoorDash and ordered takeout. Easy, efficient, convenient. But was it truly sacrificial? Not really.
How often do we do this in life? We love the idea of sacrificial love, as long as it doesn’t interrupt our plans. We serve as long as it fits in our schedule. We give as long as it doesn’t stretch us too far. We want to feel loving—but on our terms. The truth is, real sacrifice is costly, uncomfortable, inconvenient. It means setting aside my comfort, my preferences, my pride for the sake of someone else. That’s hard.
But this is exactly what Jesus calls us to. The world around us runs toward convenience—fast food, quick fixes, easy relationships, comfortable faith. But Jesus doesn’t invite us to convenient love. He calls us to costly love. So here’s the question to reflect on: Where have I settled for convenient sacrifice? Where have I drawn the line and said, “I’m willing to love—but not if it costs me that much”? Where has serving become something I fit into my life rather than something that reshapes my life?
This isn’t a guilt trip or a “try harder” message. It’s an invitation—a call into the kind of love that truly satisfies. The paradox of the Gospel is that the life we long for—the life full of purpose, joy, and greatness—doesn’t come from preserving ourselves. It comes from giving ourselves away, from laying ourselves down in sacrifice.
If you’ve been with us in this series, Greatest Summer Ever, you know we’ve been unpacking what greatness really means—not titles, status, or applause, but a kingdom mindset of humble servanthood and loving when it’s hard. All of that builds to this moment. Because the peak of kingdom greatness isn’t found in easy words or easy actions. It’s found in what we’re willing to give up for love.
In John 15:9-13, Jesus shows us this love not just in words but in His life. He starts by saying, “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.” The starting place for sacrificial love is abiding in God’s love. Not striving or trying harder, but dwelling in the unearned, unshakable love God already pours out. Jesus doesn’t say, “Go earn my love,” but “Remain in my love.”
How often do we try to love and serve from our own strength—only to feel burned out, bitter, or exhausted? Sacrificial love doesn’t come from doing more; it comes from being more rooted in God’s love. When was the last time you just sat with God and let His love soak into you, not trying to get something done or prove something? You can’t pour out what you haven’t first received.
When we abide in God’s love, obedience follows—not as a burden, but as the pathway to joy. Jesus says, “If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love… I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” Obedience is not about restriction or loss; it’s the natural fruit of being deeply loved. When we’re truly loved, we want to respond in ways that reflect that love—not out of fear, but out of joy.
Yes, sometimes obedience looks like forgiving when it hurts, serving when no one thanks us, or saying no to selfish desires. It feels like sacrifice, but Jesus promises joy on the other side of that yes. Sacrifice is the doorway to joy.
Then comes the hardest truth: true greatness is revealed in laying down our lives for one another. Jesus commands, “Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” This is not a suggestion or an option based on convenience. This is what obedience looks like—loving sacrificially, just as Jesus did, ultimately laying down His life on the cross for people who couldn’t repay Him.
Sacrificial love will cost us something—our pride, our convenience, our self-will. But in losing those things, we find joy, purpose, and a life shaped like Jesus. Kingdom greatness is measured not by what we get, but by what we give.
So I ask you: Where is Jesus asking you to lay something down for love? Who needs a love from you that costs something? What comfort zone is He calling you to step beyond? Maybe it’s a relationship needing healing, a need you’ve avoided, or a person who feels unworthy. Whatever it is, Jesus asks us to love as He loved, not because He needs it, but because that’s the path to true greatness.
The cross isn’t just where Jesus saved us. It’s where He showed us what greatness truly looks like—laying down His life, not because it was easy or convenient, but because love demanded it. Now He calls us to do the same.
As we look back on this summer, when vacations end and activities fade, what will make it truly great? It won’t be the loud or flashy moments but the quiet, faithful choices—the unseen sacrifices, the love that costs us something.
Maybe greatness this summer means reconciling with someone, serving without expecting anything back, forgiving without conditions, or simply showing up for someone who feels invisible.
This kind of love doesn’t come from trying harder—it comes from abiding in Jesus’ love, from staying rooted in the One who laid Himself down for us. We love sacrificially not to earn God’s approval, but because He has already loved us fully and freely.
The cross is our measure of greatness. The empty tomb is our power to live it out. The Greatest Summer Ever is found not in what we gain but in what we give.
