7.13.25 - Sermon written and preached by Leigh Rachal @ FPC Abbeville

Scriptures: Genesis 1:26–27, 1 Corinthians 13:1–13, 1 John 4:7–21

I wasn’t allowed to say the word hate growing up.

Not even about broccoli.

And I tried. Believe me, I tried.

But it didn’t matter.

Hate was off-limits.

My mom would gently, firmly correct me every time:

“We don’t say hate.”

It wasn’t just a parenting rule - it was a value.

Words shape the world. 

And hate, once let loose, rarely stays small.

I didn’t understand it then. But I do now.

Because we live in a world where hate is not only spoken, it’s applauded.

Where politicians and public figures win approval by hating boldly and proudly.

Where enemies aren’t just disagreed with, they’re dehumanized.

Where fear becomes fuel, and hate becomes policy.

And I wonder if, sometimes, we forget who we are.

I know there are many ways Christians have tried to describe the human condition -

including the idea of original sin, the reality that we are born into a world already bent and broken.

Or in the more reformed traditions, we talk about the “total depravity” of all humans. 

And there is truth in these concepts. 

But here’s what I also believe… and what I want to lift up today:

I believe our story doesn’t start in sin.

It starts in love.

Genesis 1 says that we were created in the image of God

all of us - formed in divine likeness.

Before there was failure, before there was a fall, there was blessing.

God said “Very good….”

We are not a mistake.

And no one is. Everyone is Beloved.

Before we ever got lost, we were made good.

Before we broke anything, we were blessed.

Before we sinned, we were named “Beloved.”

Genesis tells us that we are made in the image of God.

Every. Single. One of us. 

Even the people we don’t like.

Even those we disagree with.

Even those who do terrible harm.

I believe in that beginning.

I believe in original blessing.

And I believe that the love of our creator and our original Goodness is more true - more lasting - than our failures. 

That’s not to say sin doesn’t exist.

It does.

We wound and betray and abandon one another.

We hoard and divide and destroy.

But that is clearly not what we were made for.

We were made in love. By Love. For love. 

We were made to love God, neighbor, and self - with our whole beings. 

Theologian Shirley Guthrie defines sin by saying simply that:

“Sin is not loving and not being willing to let ourselves be loved.”

Sin, then, is not just doing bad things.

It is refusing to live as people made in love, by love, for love.

It is forgetting who we are: image-bearers of a loving God.

It is denying the image of God in our neighbor.

And that’s where hate comes in.

Hate refuses the image of God in others.

It justifies harm.

It breeds violence.

It declares someone less-than, unworthy, disposable.

But the gospel says otherwise.

The Gospel says that Everyone is God’s Beloved.

Now let me be clear:

Scripture tells us to hate evil.

Romans 12 says: “Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good.”

Psalm 97 says: “You who love the Lord, hate evil!”

We are right to resist injustice, to oppose cruelty, to speak out against harm.

But we are never told to hate people.

Even those who do great wrong.

Even those we fear.

Ephesians 6 reminds us:

“Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against powers and principalities.”

Jesus said: “Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who mistreat you.”

Yes, we are to hate what is evil.

But we are to love those who are caught in evil and sin  

- because we are, too.

The cross is not about vengeance. It’s about redemption.

And that redemption reaches even those we fear, even those who wound.

Because if it doesn’t, what hope do any of us have?

Because here’s the truth we don’t always want to admit:

Sin isn’t just out there, in them.

It’s in us, too.

Not always on purpose.

Not always through obvious harm.

But we participate in broken systems.

We benefit from injustice.

We act in fear when love is called for.

As our tradition teaches, we are not just people who sometimes sin—

We are sinners.

Even our best intentions fall short.

Even our striving toward goodness is incomplete.

As Romans 3 puts it: “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”

But Romans goes on to say:

“God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

That’s why hate can never be the answer.

Because if we start hating sinners, we’ll end up hating ourselves.

And God doesn’t.

God doesn’t hate us.

God sees it all—every failure, every harm, every bit of self-deception—

and still calls us beloved.

1 John 4 tells us that “God is love,” and that “those who love are born of God and know God.”

It goes even further:

“Those who say, ‘I love God,’ and hate their brother or sister are liars.”

It doesn’t get much clearer than that.

If we hate, we do not know God.

If we dehumanize, we do not know Christ.

If we write people off either as groups

- by race, religion, political party, nationality, sexuality, gender, or criminal records –

or as individuals for any other reason….

we have forgotten our own belovedness.

Because everyone—everyone—is God’s beloved.

This isn’t about ignoring evil.

It’s about resisting evil without becoming it.

It’s about remembering who we are—

and who they are, too.

Our closing hymn today is:

“They’ll know we are Christians by our love.”

But… is that what we’re known for?

Are we known for our compassion?

Our humility?

Our willingness to see the image of God even in those the world casts aside?

I find that line deeply convicting.

Because it doesn’t always ring true.

Not in the headlines.

Not on social media.

Not even, sometimes, in the church.

When you look around, it seems that Christian’s are more often known for

our exclusions,

our anger,

our entanglement with power…..

But we are not called to be known by our opinions.

Or by who we vote for.

Or who we’re against.

We are called to be known by our love….

What if, when people saw a Christian,

they expected kindness?

Healing?

A fierce commitment to justice, and a tender care for the hurting?

What if when people needed community and care and love, they immediately and without hesitation went to the closest Christian or church they could find?

What if we reclaimed faith from the sin of hate—and became people of unapologetic, extravagant, radical, visible, unmistakable love?

What if that was our witness?

Let us remember who we are and who everyone is:

People made in love, by love, and for love. 

and let us help one another live as if it’s true.

Because it is.

Amen.