Why Do I Love? Why Do I Serve?

Unconditional love is tested in discomfort, not delight.

It Began With a Headache

It was 11 p.m. The left side of my head was throbbing—deep, nagging pain that wrapped around to the back like a clamp slowly tightening. The only thing I wanted was a good night’s sleep. But before that, I kept a promise.

I walked. Two more kilometres. The dog needed his walk. I told him I would. So I did.

As my feet hit the pavement, I did what I always try to do—stocktake the day. Reflect. Align. Repent, if needed.

And oh, did this day have a lot to reflect on.

From Devotion to Despising… to Discovery

The morning began well—devotion with our regular group. We were reflecting on Pastor Philip Lyn’s podcast. His presence, even while navigating a cancer diagnosis, was deeply encouraging. There’s something humbling about being in a group of people who genuinely love God, love people, and love life. It gives you a kind of spiritual mirror. You look at them and ask, “Am I really walking in that same posture?”

Yesterday, we had a full team meeting. And like clockwork, our coach ended the session with what he always does: a photo.

Now here’s the truth—I usually despise it. Every single session, without fail, the photo must be taken. To me, it always felt excessive. Ritualistic. Meaningless.

But not today.

Because today… that photo saved me.

The Photo That Found My Mac

At some point in the day, I couldn’t find my MacBook. It was gone. Vanished. I searched everywhere—home, car, office. I asked my wife to help. Called the maid. Still nothing.

Then I asked our coach: “Did I use my Mac during our meeting?” He wasn’t sure. But then came the photo.

There it was—on the table. In the background. Subtle. Silent. But conclusive.

The Mac was not at home. It was in the school.

Suddenly, what I once rolled my eyes at became a rescue rope. And it reminded me—don’t be too quick to dismiss what you don’t understand. Even routines that feel meaningless may hold value you haven’t yet experienced.

10 Years. One Photo. A Family Reunited.

Later that afternoon, I had to get a haircut—urgently. My brother-in-law had returned from the U.S. for the first time in 10 years. Ever since I got to know my wife, I hadn’t seen him. And now, the family was finally together.

We planned to take a family photo—one that held more meaning than any corporate brand shoot I’ve ever led.

The kind of photo that captured not just people, but restoration. Reunion. Time that had passed and love that hadn’t.

And I looked at my parents that evening and thought: What a blessing—to be able to see them whenever I want.

The Reflection That Hit Me Most

Throughout the day, Pastor Philip’s words kept ringing in my mind—not because of what he said, but because of what it provoked in me.

He never once asked, “Why me?” after his diagnosis. Instead, he reflected on the intention behind his years of serving.

Why do I serve?

That wasn’t his question anymore. It became mine.

And as I sat with that, it began to connect to something far closer to home than church or cancer.

It connected to marriage.

The First Conflict: Birthday or Marriage Group?

Let me be honest.

Last night was hard.

We had a marriage accountability group scheduled—starts at 7:30 p.m., about 45 minutes away. But at 5:00 p.m., a neighbour invited us to a birthday celebration. I asked my wife which we should attend. She said we’d go for the marriage group.

So I got ready. By 7:00, I was home. She said, “Let’s have dinner first.”

We went to the neighbour’s house. Food hadn’t started by 7:30. I reminded her. She got upset. Loudly. In front of our host.

She said, “You need to learn what’s priority.”

I was stunned. I wasn’t choosing the birthday over the group. I was just… trying to honour both. But now I was the villain in the room.

Eventually, at 8:20, she said, “Let’s go.” I swallowed the last bite and headed to the car.

She asked, “What time is it?”

“8:20,” I replied.

She exploded. “If I knew it was this late, I would’ve left earlier!”

We didn’t go. We returned to the party. Smiles outside, discomfort inside.

The Second Conflict: The Photo Shoot with No Time Frame

Today was no different.

She asked for all the kids to be home by 6:30 for the photo shoot. My parents helped. I was back by 6:30, in pain. My headache was sharp now—persistent.

I waited. 6:30. 7:00. 7:30.

I asked, “What time do we need to be there?”

She said, “7:30.”

I was furious. I didn’t know where we were going, what the plan was, or if we’d have dinner. I waited on an empty stomach with no clarity.

But we went. We took the photo. And it turned out beautiful. The family was united. We had a late dinner. All was fine—on the outside.

But inside… I was still wrestling.

Why Do I Love Her?

And that’s when the real question surfaced—not about her, but about me.

Why do I love her?

Because she’s always prompt?

Because she never misunderstands me?

Because we always agree?

No.

I love her because I made a vow. And that vow wasn’t about conditions. It was about covenant.

I say I love unconditionally. But is that only when it’s convenient?

Can I still love when it’s uncomfortable? When it’s inconvenient? When my feelings say, “I deserve better”?

Because here’s what I realized:

You only discover if your love is unconditional… when conditions are no longer ideal.

Nick Vujicic and the Problem of Expectations

It’s like marrying someone with a known limitation—like Nick Vujicic, the man born without limbs. His wife married him fully aware. If, years later, she begins to resent what he can’t do, who’s at fault?

Not him.

The disappointment wasn’t born from reality—it was born from shifting expectations.

In the same way, I know my wife’s tendencies. Her sense of time is different. Her attention to certain details differs from mine. If I still can’t embrace that after all these years, is it really her fault?

Or is it my unwillingness to love who she is, rather than who I want her to be?

The Real Killer of Marriage

People think marriages fail because of money, communication, or conflict.

But the true killer?

Self-preservation.

When love becomes a negotiation.

When you fight to be right instead of fight for each other.

When you forget that the vow was about service, not scorekeeping.

The moment we begin to justify selfishness… the countdown begins.

Leadership Starts at Home

This isn’t just about marriage. It’s about leadership.

If I can’t serve the one I’ve vowed to love—how can I claim to lead others with integrity?

We often think leadership is influence over many. But it’s actually the faithfulness to the few.

And the people closest to us? They see the real us. There are no masks. No filters. Just raw reality.

That’s where real leadership is forged. Not in stages. In kitchens. In cars. In moments when nobody’s clapping.

Final Reflection: Today Was Worth Living

Today wasn’t perfect. My head hurt. My emotions flared. My patience was tested.

But it was worth living.

Because I asked hard questions.

Because I saw my heart.

Because I chose again—not to love reactively, but to love relentlessly.

Why do I love?

Why do I serve?

If the answer is only when it’s easy, it’s not real.

But if I can answer, “Even when it’s hard…”

Then I’ve just touched something eternal.