Discussion Questions

The chapter claims that loving God is “the small tribute of gratitude” we owe for existence itself, and that “we gain immortality by the very fact of our loving the Father”; how does that connect God’s gifts, our response, and eternal life in a way that challenges common evangelical instincts about grace and “owing nothing”? JumpstartAnother way to ask: If loving God is a “thank you” we owe for being alive, and it leads to immortality, how does that connect God’s gifts, our love, and eternal life? How does that challenge the idea that grace means we “owe nothing”?

“The more we love God, the more we enter within God”: what does this reveal about God’s desire for closeness with His people, and how would early Christians likely have understood “entering within God” in everyday discipleship rather than as mystical language? JumpstartAnother way to ask: What does “the more we love God, the more we enter within God” say about how close God wants to be with His people? How might early Christians have understood that in daily obedience, not just as mystical words?

The speaker insists, “Please note that you are to love God above yourself”; where does modern Christian self-talk about “self-love,” “self-care,” or “boundaries” clash with that ordering, and what would repentance look like if we’ve subtly put self-preservation ahead of love for God? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Where do ideas like “self-love,” “self-care,” or “boundaries” conflict with loving God more than yourself? If you’ve put protecting yourself ahead of loving God, what would repentance look like?

Jesus’ “neighbor” definition in the Good Samaritan story overturns ethnic and religious boundaries; in your context, who are the “maligned, outcast Samaritans” you instinctively distrust, and what concrete “oil, bandages, beast, and money” actions would love require rather than mere sympathy? JumpstartAnother way to ask: In your life, who are the people you instinctively avoid or distrust like the Samaritan was? What real, hands-on help would love require from you, not just feeling bad for them?

The chapter identifies Jesus as the true Samaritan and says the law cuts off “bare effects” while Jesus cuts out “roots” of desire; what are examples of “fruit-trimming” morality you’ve settled for, and what would it mean to let Jesus address the roots (lusts, passions, fears, pleasures) named in the chapter? JumpstartAnother way to ask: What are some ways you’ve focused on stopping bad actions while ignoring the desires underneath them? What would it look like to let Jesus deal with the root issues like lust, fear, or love of pleasure?

“Therefore, we are to love Jesus equally with God,” and then the chapter ties that love to obedience using Matthew 7:21 and Luke 6:46; how does this confront common separations between “relationship not rules,” assurance, and the idea that obedience is optional or merely “recommended”? JumpstartAnother way to ask: If loving Jesus means obeying Him, how does that challenge the idea of “relationship not rules”? What does it say to the belief that obedience is optional and doesn’t affect assurance?

The chapter says caring for disciples is caring for Christ Himself (Matthew 25), and warns that neglect has eternal consequences; what does this reveal about how God evaluates a life, and how does it reshape what your church should consider “serious sin” versus “secondary issues”? JumpstartAnother way to ask: If caring for Jesus’ disciples counts as caring for Jesus Himself, what does that show about what God takes seriously in a person’s life? How should that change what your church calls “serious sin” versus “small issues”?

The speaker says Jesus’ command about “making friends with unrighteous riches” implies property is “not really his own,” and then urges actively seeking worthy disciples to aid; how would early Christians—who often practiced radical generosity—have heard that, and what parts of your budget or lifestyle would be hardest to reinterpret as “not really mine”? JumpstartAnother way to ask: If our money and property are “not really ours,” how would early Christians known for generosity have heard that? What parts of your budget or lifestyle would be hardest to treat as “not really mine”?

The chapter calls giving “divine merchandise” and says, “We can purchase immortality with money… an excellent trade”; how do you reconcile that language with modern Protestant discomfort about “earning,” and what does the chapter seem to mean (and not mean) about reward, salvation, and the use of wealth? JumpstartAnother way to ask: How can the chapter say we “purchase immortality with money” without meaning we earn salvation? What do you think it does—and does not—mean about rewards, salvation, and how we use wealth?

The chapter discourages testing worthiness—“better to do good to the undeserving for the sake of the deserving”—and warns that withholding may neglect someone God loves; where do you currently screen, delay, or rationalize not helping, and what practical changes would it take to “open your compassion to all who are enrolled as the disciples of God” without being ruled by suspicion or appearance? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Where do you hold back help because you’re judging if someone “deserves” it or you don’t trust them? What changes would help you show compassion more freely without being controlled by suspicion or appearances?