The Mark We're Aiming For
We've diagnosed the disease. Now for the prescription. What does it actually look like to hit the mark? Jesus answered that question directly, and His answer was so simple it offends the theological establishment.
The Turn
We’ve spent four parts on the hard stuff. On what it looks like to miss the mark — the wrong targets, the expert missers, the knowledge divorced from love, the Bible turned into a blunt instrument.
That was necessary. You can’t aim at the right target until you realize you’ve been aimed at the wrong one. Diagnosis comes before prescription.
But if all we do is diagnose, we’ve just traded one kind of legalism for another — “you’re doing it wrong” without “here’s what it looks like to do it right.” And that’s just another heavy burden placed on shoulders without anyone lifting a finger to help.
So let’s turn. Let’s look at the actual target. Let’s answer the question that started this whole series:
What does it look like to hit the mark?
The Devastating Simplicity
Jesus said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the first and great commandment. A second likewise is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.”
Every time I read this, I’m struck by how offensively simple it is.
The Pharisee who asked the question was hoping for a complex answer. Something to debate. Something to demonstrate intellectual depth. Something that would take years of study to unpack — which would, of course, favor the people who had years of study under their belts.
Jesus gave him two sentences.
Love God with everything you have. Love your neighbor as yourself.
That’s it. That’s the mark.
Not “master the theological grid.” Not “achieve doctrinal consensus.” Not “build the perfect systematic theology.” Not “have the correct position on every disputed issue.”
Love God. Love people. Everything else hangs on these two.
That word “hangs” — the Greek is κρεμάννυμι (kremannymi) — means to be suspended from. The way a door hangs on its hinges. Remove the hinges and the door crashes to the ground. The entire Law and Prophets — every moral teaching, every ethical command, every regulation about how to live — is suspended from love. It has no structural integrity without it. Remove love, and the whole thing collapses into a pile of rules that crush people.
The simplicity isn’t an accident. It’s a feature. Jesus made the mark simple enough that a child can understand it — which means no one gets to hide behind complexity. You can’t say, “Well, the issue is actually much more nuanced than that” when God Himself reduced it to two commands. The nuance is in the application, not the principle.
The principle is love. Full stop.
The New Command
On the night before He died, Jesus took this even further:
“…A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
A “new” command. What’s new about it? The Old Testament already said “love your neighbor.” That’s not new.
Here’s what’s new: the standard. “As I have loved you.”
The old standard was “love your neighbor as yourself” — treat others the way you’d want to be treated. The new standard is “love each other as I have loved you” — which means sacrificially, unconditionally, to the point of death, even for people who will betray you before breakfast.
Jesus said this at the Last Supper. Judas was at the table. Peter, who would deny Him three times, was at the table. Every disciple who would scatter when He was arrested was at the table. Jesus looked at these people — knowing what they would do — and said, “Love each other the way I love you.”
And then He went to the cross.
That’s the mark. Not love as a feeling. Not love as a sentiment. Love as a pattern of life that costs you something — that costs you everything if necessary.
And then the kicker: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples.”
Not by your doctrine. Not by your worship style. Not by your position on baptism or eschatology or the exact mechanics of atonement. The world will know you belong to Jesus by one thing: how you love each other.
That’s the ID badge. That’s the credential. That’s the only evidence the world is looking for.
What Love Looks Like When It Has Hands and Feet
Okay, but what does this actually look like? Not in theory. In practice. On a Tuesday afternoon.
Jesus answered that too. And His answer should keep us up at night:
Then the King will tell those on his right hand, ‘Come, blessed of my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me drink. I was a stranger and you took me in. I was naked and you clothed me. I was sick and you visited me. I was in prison and you came to me.’ “Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you a drink? When did we see you as a stranger and take you in, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and come to you?’ “The King will answer them, ‘Most certainly I tell you, because you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’…”
This is the sheep-and-goats judgment. The final accounting. And notice — there’s no theology quiz. No doctrinal review. No debate about predestination.
The criteria are devastatingly practical:
- Did you feed the hungry?
- Did you give water to the thirsty?
- Did you welcome the stranger?
- Did you clothe the naked?
- Did you visit the sick?
- Did you go to the prisoner?
That’s it. That’s the test. Not “did you believe the right things?” — “did you do the right things for the least of these?”
And both groups — the sheep and the goats — are surprised. The sheep say, “When did we see you hungry?” They weren’t keeping score. They weren’t doing it to earn points. They were just loving people because that’s who they’d become.
The goats say, “When did we see you hungry?” They weren’t deliberately cruel. They just… didn’t notice. They were too busy with other things. Important things, probably. Maybe even religious things.
You can be so focused on getting the theology right that you walk past Jesus in the checkout line and don’t even see Him.
Love as Action, Not Abstraction
John, who never stopped hammering this point, made it concrete:
By this we know love, because he laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers. But whoever has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, then closes his heart of compassion against him, how does God’s love remain in him? My little children, let’s not love in word only, or with the tongue only, but in deed and truth.
“Let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.”
Love isn’t something you feel. It’s something you do. It’s not an idea you affirm — it’s a life you live. And John gets specific: if you have material resources and you see a brother or sister in need and you close your heart to them, the love of God is not in you.
Not “is incomplete in you.” Not “could be stronger in you.” Is not in you.
This is not ambiguous. If you have the ability to help and you choose not to — for whatever reason, even a theological reason, even a “they should learn to trust God” reason — John says God’s love isn’t operating in your life. Period.
Love that stays in the head never reaches the mark. The mark requires hands.
The Character of Someone Who Hits It
Paul gives us a portrait of what it looks like when someone is actually aimed at the right target:
Put on therefore, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, a heart of compassion, kindness, lowliness, humility, and perseverance; bearing with one another, and forgiving each other, if any man has a complaint against any; even as Christ forgave you, so you also do. Above all these things, walk in love, which is the bond of perfection.
Look at what Paul lists. Compassion. Kindness. Humility. Gentleness. Patience. Forbearance. Forgiveness.
These are not personality traits. They’re not some people’s spiritual gift while others got different gifts. They’re the basic wardrobe of every believer. “Clothe yourselves” — this is what you put on every morning, like a shirt, like shoes. This is the outfit.
And then the binding agent: “Over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”
Love is the belt that holds the whole outfit together. Without it, everything else falls apart. You can try to wear compassion without love — it becomes pity. You can try to wear patience without love — it becomes passive-aggression. You can try to wear humility without love — it becomes false modesty.
Love is what makes every other virtue authentic.
doing nothing through rivalry or through conceit, but in humility, each counting others better than himself; each of you not just looking to his own things, but each of you also to the things of others.
“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of others.”
That’s the posture. Not “look out for number one and also be nice to people.” Not “take care of yourself first and then help others with the leftovers.” Value others above yourselves. Look to their interests. Make their flourishing your priority.
This is radical. This is counter-cultural. This is the opposite of everything the world — and, honestly, most churches — teach about success and significance.
What the Fruit Looks Like
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faith, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law.
We mentioned this list in Part 1. But it’s worth sitting with it longer, because this is the description of someone who’s hitting the mark. Not someone who’s perfect. Someone who’s aimed right — and the Spirit is producing results.
Love — not sentiment, but sacrificial action for the good of others.
Joy — not happiness based on circumstances, but a deep settled gladness rooted in who God is.
Peace — not the absence of conflict, but a wholeness that holds together even when things fall apart.
Patience — the ability to bear with difficult people and difficult circumstances without bailing, exploding, or retaliating.
Kindness — active goodness toward others, not just the absence of cruelty.
Goodness — moral character that shows up in how you live, not just what you believe.
Faithfulness — reliability. Showing up. Keeping your word. Being the person people can count on.
Gentleness — strength under control. Not weakness — restrained power that chooses tenderness.
Self-control — the ability to govern your impulses rather than being governed by them.
Now here’s the diagnostic: Is this what your theological knowledge is producing?
Because if it is — if your study of Scripture is making you more patient, more kind, more gentle, more self-controlled — then your aim is right. The arrow is flying true. You’re hitting the mark.
But if your theological knowledge is making you more argumentative, more condescending, more impatient with people who disagree, more impressed with yourself — then the fruit tells the truth. You’re aimed at the wrong target, no matter how much you know.
The fruit never lies.
Romans 12: The Practical Manual
Paul gives us what might be the most practical description of love in action anywhere in the New Testament:
Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor that which is evil. Cling to that which is good. In love of the brothers be tenderly affectionate to one another; in honor prefer one another, not lagging in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord, rejoicing in hope, enduring in troubles, continuing steadfastly in prayer, contributing to the needs of the saints, and given to hospitality.
This is a bullet list for hitting the mark. Let’s break it down:
“Love must be sincere.” — Not performative. Not for show. Not “love” that’s really a strategy for getting what you want. Real. From the gut.
“Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.” — Love doesn’t mean accepting everything. It means being passionately against what destroys people and passionately for what heals them.
“Be devoted to one another in love.” — Not casual. Devoted. Committed. The kind of love that doesn’t bail when things get hard.
“Honor one another above yourselves.” — There it is again. The upside-down kingdom where greatness is measured by how you lift others.
“Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor.” — Love isn’t passive. It’s passionate. It’s on fire. Not a quiet obligation — a burning commitment.
“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” — The posture of someone who trusts God enough to stay steady when life is chaotic.
“Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.” — Open your wallet. Open your home. Open your life. Love has material consequences.
That’s the mark. Not complicated. Not requiring a seminary degree. Not debatable. Just hard. Really, really hard. And really, really beautiful when you see it lived out.
What It Looks Like in the Wild
Let me paint you a picture.
It looks like the couple who takes in their neighbor’s kids for a week because she just lost her job and can’t handle the stress. Not because they were asked to. Because they noticed.
It looks like the small group that stops the Bible study to pray over the person who just admitted they’re struggling with addiction — and then shows up the next day with meals and a ride to a meeting. Not a lecture. A ride.
It looks like the pastor who steps down from the pulpit on a Sunday morning because he realizes his marriage is falling apart and his family needs him more than the church does. And the church that lets him, without shame, without gossip, without treating it as failure.
It looks like the teenager who sits with the kid eating alone in the cafeteria, even though it costs her social standing. Because love looks like Jesus, and Jesus always ate with the outcasts.
It looks like the elderly woman who’s been visiting the same nursing home every Saturday for twelve years, reading to people who can’t remember her name. Because love is faithful even when it’s not noticed.
It looks like the man who puts down his phone when his kid is talking, who shows up to the recital, who says “I’m sorry” when he’s wrong — not because he’s naturally good at these things, but because he’s choosing the mark over his own comfort.
This is what it looks like to hit the bullseye. No degrees required. No theological system necessary. Just love, with hands and feet, aimed at the person in front of you.
The Terrifying Freedom
Here’s what scares people about this: it’s not controllable.
A rule-based system is controllable. You can check boxes. You can measure. You can compare yourself to others and know where you stand. “I tithed. I attended. I didn’t cuss. I read my Bible. I’m doing well.”
Love isn’t like that. Love is messy. Love is unpredictable. Love requires you to see the actual person in front of you and respond to their actual need — which might be different from person to person, situation to situation, day to day.
You can’t systematize love. You can’t create a checklist for it. You can’t turn it into a program.
And that terrifies the Pharisee in all of us. Because it means we can’t grade ourselves. We can’t prove we’re doing it right. We can’t point to our performance metrics and feel secure.
We have to actually trust God. We have to walk by the Spirit, not by the rulebook. We have to show up each day and ask, “Who needs love today, and how can I give it?” — and then do whatever the answer requires, even if it costs us.
That’s the mark. That’s always been the mark. And it’s available to every single person who’s willing to aim at it.
Reflection Questions
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If the final test is Matthew 25 — did you feed, clothe, welcome, visit — how are you doing? Not in theory. In practice. This week.
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Read the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5:22-23 slowly. Which fruit is most evident in your life? Which is most absent? What does that reveal about your aim?
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Who is the “least of these” in your daily life? The coworker everyone avoids? The neighbor who’s different? The family member who’s difficult? How are you treating them?
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Does your faith have material consequences? Is it costing you time, money, comfort, reputation? Or is it primarily intellectual?
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What would change in your life if you woke up tomorrow and the only thing that mattered was “love God, love people”? What would you start doing? What would you stop?
Coming Up Next
The mark is love. We know that now. But knowing the mark and hitting it are different things. And for many of us, the distance between where we are and where love calls us isn’t a knowledge gap — it’s a wound.
Some of us grew up in the systems we’ve been describing. Legalist homes. Weaponized churches. Environments where God was more judge than father and the Bible was more stick than bread. We know love is the mark, but we’re standing in a field of wreckage wondering how to even pick up the bow again.
Part 6 — Coming Home to Grace is for you. For the recovering legalist. For the spiritually wounded. For the person who walked away and is wondering if there’s a way back. There is. And it starts where all good things start: with grace.