Hate the sin, Love the sinner.
I recently finished reading a book, Tortured for Christ (mature audience warning — highly recommended read). The underlying principle of this book is to practice being a people who don’t withdraw grace when we are met with someone living in sin. In simpler terms, loving the sinner in spite of their sin. It seems like such an easy concept, which begs the question: why is it so hard to practice?
Disclosure: I am not a subject matter expert. Just a sinner, in need of grace, much like you reading this. Anywho - my guess to our inherent resistance in separating the child of God from the action of sin stems from our pride. Is that a stretch? Let me explain. Loving people through their sin requires us to die to pride. It forces us to let go of our instinct to judge, to categorize, and to distance ourselves from what feels uncomfortable or “wrong.” It’s far easier to point out someone else’s failures than it is to extend grace the way Christ does for us every single day.
When we read about Jesus’ ministry, we see that He never avoided the broken, the messy, or the lost. He ate with tax collectors, defended adulterers, and touched lepers. He entered into the spaces everyone else avoided. Yet, He never compromised truth. He didn’t minimize sin, but He also didn’t let sin define His view of a person. Again - He didn’t minimize sin, but He also didn’t let sin define His view of a person. He saw the soul behind the sin — the child God created, not the choices they made.
That’s what makes His love so different from the world’s version. The world says, “If you love me, you’ll accept everything about me.” Jesus says, “I love you too much to leave you the same.” His love is both merciful and transformative. He welcomes us with open arms, but His love also refines and restores.
As believers, we often struggle to find that balance. Some of us lean so heavily toward truth that we forget grace altogether. We become focused on pointing out right and wrong, and in doing so, we risk hardening our hearts toward the very people God is calling us to love. Truth without grace can turn into judgment — it pushes people away rather than drawing them closer to Christ. It can make us appear harsh, self-righteous, or unapproachable. People stop hearing our message because our delivery lacks compassion. On the other hand, some of us extend grace so freely that we lose sight of truth. In our effort to avoid conflict or appear loving, we may begin excusing or ignoring sin altogether. We tell ourselves it’s “not our place” to say anything, or that love means full acceptance. But grace without truth isn’t really love — it’s enabling. True grace doesn’t leave people comfortable in their sin; it lovingly calls them to something better. Jesus didn’t tell the woman caught in adultery, “It’s okay, just do better next time.” He said, “Go and sin no more.” His grace saved her from condemnation, and His truth invited her into transformation.
Jesus showed us that both truth and grace can (and must) exist together. He spoke truth with gentleness, and He extended grace without compromise. He never watered down sin, but He also never withheld mercy. His love was honest and holy. When He encountered brokenness, He didn’t condemn, He confronted sin with compassion. That’s the example we’re called to follow. To be people who don’t shy away from truth, but who communicate it in a way that reflects Christ’s heart. To love people enough to tell them what’s real, but to do it with a tone that invites healing instead of shame. To remember that grace and truth aren’t opposites, they’re partners. One without the other is incomplete, but together, they reflect the fullness of Jesus.
I’ll be honest: there have been times I’ve withheld grace because I thought someone didn’t “deserve” it. I’ve told myself that certain sins were too much, too far, too offensive. But every time I do that, I forget the reality that my own sin also nailed Jesus to the cross. Grace isn’t deserved — by anyone. That’s what makes it grace. When we start to understand that, it changes the way we see people. Instead of labeling others by their sin, we begin to see them as souls God desperately loves, the same way He loves us. We stop looking at them with disgust or frustration and start praying for their healing and salvation.
The truth is, loving someone doesn’t mean condoning their sin. It means choosing compassion over condemnation. It means praying for the person even when their choices break your heart. It means showing kindness when it would be easier to walk away. And it’s hard. It takes humility. It takes patience. It takes a deep understanding of how much we’ve been forgiven ourselves.
When we choose to love like Jesus — to look past sin and see the person — that’s when real change begins. Not just in them, but in us. Our hearts become softer, more aware of how desperately the world needs Christ’s love. And our lives start to reflect the kind of grace that draws people to Him instead of pushing them away.
So maybe “hate the sin, love the sinner” isn’t just a saying — maybe it’s a daily practice. A choice to respond to the world not with disgust or division, but with the same radical grace that met us when we were still far from God. Because at the end of the day, none of us are too far gone for His love. And maybe, just maybe, when we choose to love others that way, we become living reflections of the Savior who loved us first.
