Maundy Thursday is one of my “favorite” days of the church year. I put that in parentheses because it’s also a hard day. The day Jesus was betrayed. The day the journey to the cross really picks up speed. So, before He leaves, Jesus shows us what matters. Service. Presence. And Love. They will know we are His disciples not by our opinions, our politics, or our worship. But by our love. That was His command. Love. And that is how the world will know that we are His.

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Today is Maundy Thursday—one of the most sacred and moving days of the Christian year. The word Maundy comes from the Latin mandatum, meaning “commandment,” and it points us directly to the heart of what this day is about. Before Jesus was arrested, before the cross and the grave, He left His disciples—and us—with one final, urgent command: love one another.

I didn’t grow up observing Maundy Thursday. Like many, I first encountered it when a new pastor introduced it to our church. It was different, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. But it stuck with me. There’s something deeply powerful about the experience of Maundy Thursday—the sights, the sounds, the quiet, the shadows, and the sacredness. It’s a night of memory, humility, and ultimately, love.

Tonight, Christians around the world will gather to remember that sacred meal—the Last Supper. Some will wash feet, as Jesus did. Others will share in communion, strip the altar, and sit in stillness, remembering what Jesus gave before He was taken.

But it’s not just what He gave. It’s what He commanded.

“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
—John 13:34–35

Notice what Jesus didn’t say.
He didn’t say, “They’ll know you’re mine by your denomination.”
He didn’t say, “By your theology,” or “your political convictions.”
He didn’t even say, “By how well you worship or pray.”

He said the world will know we are His by our love for one another.

Before He went to the cross, Jesus gave His disciples (and us) one last spiritual checklist. It wasn’t complicated. It wasn’t abstract.

• Service — He washed their feet, even Judas’.
• Presence — He shared a meal, the bread and cup of remembrance.
• Commandment — He told them to love.

This is the Maundy Thursday rhythm. This is the phone-wallet-keys of Christian discipleship.

Jesus didn’t just teach love. He embodied it. He knelt before the very man who would betray Him and washed his feet. He broke bread with the one who would hand Him over. That’s not just kindness. That’s radical, redemptive, sacrificial love.

And that’s the love we’re called to live out.

Loving the lovable is easy. Loving those who agree with us is convenient. But Maundy Thursday love is different. Maundy Thursday love calls us to serve, to forgive, to see people with the eyes of Christ—even the ones who’ve hurt us.

It doesn’t mean we always reconcile—some wounds take time, and boundaries matter. But it does mean we strive to release bitterness. It means we refuse to be mastered by our pain. When we can’t love, we become captive to what wounded us. But when we do love—even when it costs us—we walk in the way of Christ.

This kind of love doesn’t come naturally. It’s a process. It’s a lifetime of learning, of grieving, of trying, of failing, and of trusting that Jesus walks with us through every bit of it.

Each Maundy Thursday, I reflect not only on the beauty of Jesus’ love, but on the brokenness of life. Life hurts. People betray. Dreams die. But the cross—looming just hours away—reminds us that God meets us in that pain. And love doesn’t lose. In fact, it’s the only thing that saves.

The cross is not the end. It’s the beginning. But first, we have to go there. First, we have to walk this road of love.

So tonight, gather at a church if you can. Wash feet or receive communion. Sit in silence. Watch as the altar is stripped. Let the weight of this holy night sink deep into your soul.

And as you leave, carry with you this commandment—not as a burden, but as a light:
Love one another.

Not because it’s easy.
Not because they deserve it.
But because He first loved us.

And through that love, the world will know that we are His.