February has a way of getting loud. Even if you try your best not to buy into it, it’s everywhere. The heart shaped candy in every store, lovey-dovey pictures and videos all over social media, flower delivery showing up in the middle of class, captions about “my person”, and the subtle pressure to either be in love or pretend like you don’t care. It’s almost impossible not to absorb the messages: this is what love looks like. It’s exciting. It’s aesthetic. It’s romantic. It’s butterflies and big gestures and someone choosing you.  

And none of those things are inherently bad. Romance isn’t the enemy, in fact it’s a reflection of God’s heart for us, but if we’re honest, the version of love we’re constantly consuming and shown this time of year feels thin. Yes, it’s emotional. It’s dramatic. Is grand and marketable but it is often surface level and superficial. It’s a love that depends on chemistry, timing, and mutual benefit and when that’s the only definition we see, It’s easy to forget that love, real love, is something much deeper.

This idea of “love” feels thin because it tends to revolve around how love makes us feel. The version of love our culture celebrates is often rooted in attraction, compatibility, and emotional satisfaction and it depends on chemistry and shared excitement. When the spark is strong, love feels electric and secure, but when those emotions shift, as emotions always do, love can suddenly feel fragile or uncertain. And when we are constantly consuming a definition of love that is built on feelings, we can slowly find ourselves beginning to believe that love is mainly something we experience and receive, rather than something that shapes who we are and how we live.

But Scripture gives us a completely different foundation.

In 1 John 4:8, we are told that: “God is love.” Not that He understands love. Not that He models love occasionally. He is love. That means love is not first a feeling or even an action, but that it is rooted in the very character of who God is. If we want to understand love in its truest form, we should not look to trending TikToks or romantic storylines. We look to Jesus. And what we see in Jesus challenges everything shallow about the love we often celebrate. 

We see a Savior who kneels to wash the feet of His disciples in John 13, including the one who would betray Him. We see compassion poured out on crowds who had nothing to offer Him in return. We see patience with doubters, gentleness with the broken, and mercy toward sinners. Ultimately, we see Him stretch out His arms on a cross, not because we earned it, not because we were attractive or impressive, but because He chose to love us at our worst. “But God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). 

That is not thin love. That is costly love. It is love that does not depend on chemistry or convenience. It is love that moves toward people when it would be easier to walk away. It is love that sacrifices. It is love that endures. And here’s where February confronts us in a deeper way: we often spend this month focused on whether we are being loved well, instead of asking whether we are loving well.

When Jesus was asked what commandment mattered most, He didn’t say, “Find someone who makes you feel chosen.” He said, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind… AND… you shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:37–39). The call of the Christian life is not primarily to romantic fulfillment. It is to wholehearted devotion to God and active love toward others. Because of Christ’s love for us, we are called to love our neighbors.

That neighbor might be your roommate who is hard to live with. It might be the person in your group project who isn’t pulling their weight. It might be the friend who feels distant lately, or the classmate who always seems to sit alone. Loving our neighbor often looks far less glamorous than flowers and grand gestures. It looks like patience. It looks like forgiveness. It looks like choosing not to gossip. It looks like showing up when it’s inconvenient. It looks like listening when you would rather scroll.

In John 13:35, Jesus says, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” The defining mark of a Christian is not relationship status. It is not how aesthetically pleasing our life looks online. It is love. Real, tangible, consistent love.

But here’s the catch: we cannot love like Christ if we do not know Christ. We cannot give what we have not received. If our understanding of love is shaped more by culture than by Scripture, we will inevitably love conditionally. We will love when it benefits us. We will love when it feels good. We will love when it’s easy. But when love costs us things like our pride, our comfort, our time, we will struggle to stay. That is why knowing Jesus is not optional in learning how to love. To know Him is to sit with Him in His Word. To watch how He treats people. To remember daily that we are fully seen and fully loved by Him. 1 John 4:19 reminds us, “We love because He first loved us.” The order matters. His love initiates. Our love responds.

When we are secure in Christ’s love, we are freed from desperately searching for validation elsewhere. We are freed from idolizing romance. We are freed from resenting this season if we’re single or clinging too tightly if we’re dating. Instead of needing someone else to complete us, we rest in the reality that we are already chosen, already pursued, already held by the Savior.

And from that place of security, we can love others differently. We can love not to be noticed, but to reflect Him. We can love not to gain something, but to give. We can love not because it’s trendy in February, but because it is our calling year round. February will continue to be loud. There will still be roses and chocolate and carefully curated captions. But as believers, we have the opportunity to remember the love the world so easily forgets. The love that serves quietly. The love that forgives repeatedly. The love that sacrifices willingly.  The love that stays when feelings fluctuate. The love that looks like Jesus.

So whether you find yourself in a relationship, hoping for one, healing from one, or perfectly content without one, remember this: you are already fully loved in Christ. And because you are loved that deeply, you are called to love your neighbor just as deeply. Not just in February. But always.