42 Sermon Illustrations on God's Love

Why is it so hard to find the right illustration about God’s love?

After preaching for over 20 years, I’ve learned this the hard way: God’s love is the most powerful truth in the universe — but it’s also one of the hardest to describe. You can preach on John 3:16, Romans 5:8, or Luke 15, but if your congregation doesn’t feel it, they might nod… and walk away unchanged.

That’s why sermon illustrations matter. The right story, image, or analogy can break down defenses and open up the heart. It takes truth off the page and puts it into flesh and blood.

Finding those kinds of illustrations — ones that are fresh, theologically sound, emotionally resonant, and not overused — is tough. Trust me, I’ve spent hundreds of hours trying.

That’s why I created a course to help pastors like you find illustrations like these in seconds — not hours.

With the help of powerful (and free) AI tools, you can generate 30 sermon illustrations on any topic — and even get images for your slides — all without compromising your theology or your integrity.

Let me show you what that looks like, using one of the richest and most important topics in all of Scripture: God’s love.

llustrations on God's Love from Historical Stories

Clara Barton — Love That Crosses Enemy Lines

During the American Civil War, the battlefield was chaos. Men on both sides lay wounded — bleeding, screaming, dying. Supplies were short. Doctors were overwhelmed. And most people avoided those front lines at all costs.

But not Clara Barton. She ran straight toward the suffering. Clara was a schoolteacher and clerk before the war, but when she saw the need, she became something more — a nurse, a supply coordinator, a fierce advocate for the forgotten. She showed up at the front lines with wagons full of bandages, food, and love.

But here’s what sets her apart: Clara didn’t ask which side a soldier fought for. She didn’t ask about politics or uniforms. If someone was bleeding, she treated them. Union or Confederate, black or white, friend or enemy — they were all children of God in her eyes.

And when people questioned her, she said, “I may be compelled to face danger, but never fear it — while our soldiers need me.” After the war, she went on to found the American Red Cross, building a legacy of mercy that still saves lives today.

That’s the kind of love we see in Jesus. When He found us broken, He didn’t ask what side we were on. He didn’t wait for us to deserve help. He bandaged our wounds and bore them Himself. Romans 5:10 says, “While we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to Him through the death of His Son.” Love that crosses battle lines. Love that shows up in the mess.

(Source: American Red Cross)

Elizabeth Fry — Love for the Forgotten

In 1813, a young English woman walked into Newgate Prison for the first time. What she saw changed her life — and countless others. The women’s prison was filthy, overcrowded, and violent. Mothers were chained to walls. Children slept on stone floors. There was no food unless prisoners could pay for it.

Most of society had forgotten these women. They were criminals, after all. “They deserve it,” people said. “They chose this life.” But Elizabeth Fry didn’t see criminals. She saw human beings. And she believed that every one of them mattered to God.

So she came back — again and again. She brought food and medicine. She brought knitting needles and Bibles. She started schools for the children behind bars. And she created programs that taught women job skills, hygiene, and dignity. Most importantly, she loved them. Not because they had earned it, but because they needed it.

She said, “Punishment is not for revenge, but to lessen crime and reform the criminal.” Elizabeth Fry didn’t stop with one prison. She became a leading voice in Parliament for prison reform — one of the first women to address that body. She changed laws. She changed lives. She even comforted prisoners on death row, reminding them of God’s mercy.

Her love didn’t erase justice — it transformed it. That’s what God’s love does. In Isaiah 61, God says He has sent His servant “to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives, and release from darkness for the prisoners.” That’s the love we’re called to reflect. A love that walks into forgotten places and whispers, “You are not forgotten.”

(Source: CBE International)

Illustrations on God's Love from Science

Vampire Bats

Vampire bats live in Central and South America. They feed on blood, but there’s something more surprising. If a bat goes a single night without food, it can die. That’s how delicate their survival is. But here’s the part that stunned scientists: when a bat comes back to the roost full and another bat is hungry, the full one will regurgitate blood to feed the other.

And get this — they don’t just feed their relatives. They feed unrelated bats. Sometimes even bats who haven’t “paid them back.” Why? It’s not entirely clear. But one thing is: this kind of unearned, undeserved generosity is rare in nature. And yet… there it is. One creature giving life-sustaining nourishment to another — not because they have to, but because they choose to.

Jesus said in Luke 6:35, “Love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return... and you will be sons of the Most High, because He is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.” If a vampire bat can share what it has with no guarantee of return, how much more should we, as children of God, extend unmerited love?

God didn’t wait until we could repay Him. He gave while we were still enemies. Not love that waits for performance. Love that moves first. Love that gives what the other cannot repay. That’s Gospel love — and it’s already been offered to you.

(Source: National Geographic)

The Sun Always Shines

Think about the sun for a moment. It rises every single day. It shines on the just and the unjust, the grateful and the oblivious. It gives warmth, light, and life whether you notice it or not. But sometimes — clouds roll in. You wake up to gray skies. You can’t feel the sun’s heat. You don’t see the rays shining through. Maybe, if the storm is strong enough, it feels like the sun is gone.

But of course, it isn’t. It’s still there. Still burning. Still giving light. Still holding the solar system together. The clouds don’t stop the sun — they just block your view. And isn’t that exactly how God’s love is? You go through storms. You face discouragement. You wrestle with guilt or grief. And in those moments, it can feel like God is distant. Like maybe His love was temporary or conditional.

But feelings don’t change facts. Romans 8:39 says that nothing “in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Not even your own doubt.

God’s love doesn’t flicker like a candle — it blazes like the sun. And even if you can’t feel it… even if the clouds of your circumstances block your view… His love has not moved. He is still shining. Still sustaining. Still loving you — right now.

(Source: biblehub.com)

Illustrations on God's Love from Social Science and Psychology

Forgiveness — God's Grace at Work

In recent decades, psychologists have begun to study something the Bible has taught for centuries: the power of forgiveness. They’ve found that people who forgive deeply — especially those who forgive without being asked — experience lower levels of anxiety, depression, and even physical pain.

But here’s the surprising part: Many of the people most capable of deep, repeated forgiveness have one thing in common. They believe they’ve been forgiven by God. You see, when someone knows — really knows — that they’ve received undeserved mercy, they tend to extend it.

It’s not that forgiveness becomes easy. But it becomes possible. One study showed that people who regularly practiced their faith and reflected on God’s grace were far more likely to forgive serious offenses — even when the offender wasn’t sorry. Why? Because they weren’t drawing forgiveness from their own strength.They were passing along what they had first received.

That’s exactly what Paul wrote in Ephesians 4:32: “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” The order matters. We don’t forgive so we can be forgiven. We forgive because we have been forgiven.

When we realize that God didn’t wait for us to be worthy — when we remember that Jesus forgave us from the cross before we ever asked — that changes how we see others. God’s love isn’t just something we receive — it’s something that rewires us from the inside out. And the world sees His love most clearly when we show it… especially to those who don’t deserve it.

The Compassion of Caregivers — Love for the Vulnerable

In hospitals and care homes around the world, there’s something happening that researchers have studied closely: the extraordinary sacrifices made by caregivers, especially those who care for patients with severe disabilities, memory loss, or terminal illnesses. These caregivers — sometimes professionals, sometimes family members — often work long hours with little recognition, little rest, and sometimes little reward. What drives them?

Psychologists who study compassion fatigue and resilience have discovered a powerful theme. Caregivers who see their work as a calling — often motivated by their faith — consistently demonstrate deeper levels of endurance and love, even in situations where the patient may never improve or say thank you. One study found that caregivers with a strong sense of spiritual purpose were more likely to persist in the face of emotional exhaustion. Why? Because they didn’t view love as a transaction. They weren’t loving for what they could get back. They were loving because someone needed to be loved.

That kind of love — costly, faithful, unglamorous — is the very love God shows us. In Psalm 68:5, God is called "a father to the fatherless, a defender of widows.” In Isaiah 46:4, He says, “Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he… I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” This is the love of a God who does not give up on us when we are helpless. Who doesn’t stop showing up when we have nothing to give in return.

You may never be in a hospital bed or a care facility. But the truth is — we’ve all been spiritually helpless. And God loved us anyway. He loved us not because we were strong, but because we were His. That’s the kind of love that sustains the weary, and it’s the kind of love we’re called to reflect.

Illustrations on God's Love from Art and Music

O Love That Will Not Let Me Go

In the late 1800s, a man named George Matheson faced one of the most crushing heartbreaks imaginable. He was engaged to be married — but when his fiancée learned that he was going blind, she ended the engagement. She couldn’t bear the thought of spending her life with a man who would lose his sight.

Matheson went on to become a pastor and theologian. But the wound stayed with him for years. Then, on the eve of his sister’s wedding — the last close family member who had been helping care for him — that pain resurfaced. Alone in his room, overwhelmed with sorrow and surrender, George picked up a pen and wrote what would become one of the most enduring hymns in the English language.

“O Love that wilt not let me go,I rest my weary soul in Thee…”

He later said the words came to him in just five minutes, with no editing. They poured out like a prayer from a broken heart that still believed. Think about that. A man who had been abandoned because of his weakness, left in the dark — literally and emotionally — still clung to the love of God as his anchor.

And that’s what God’s love is. It’s not the kind that leaves when you’re no longer strong. It’s not the kind that pulls away when life doesn’t go as planned. It’s the love that stays. The love that carries you through loss. The love that whispers, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

When the love of people fails, the love of God endures. When your world grows dim, His light remains. And when your soul is weary, His love is the place where you can rest.

(Source: umcdiscipleship.org)

Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah — Beauty from Brokenness

Leonard Cohen’s song “Hallelujah” has become one of the most covered and beloved songs in modern history. But when he first wrote it, it wasn’t a hit. In fact, his record label rejected the album. Cohen had reportedly written over 80 verses, agonizing over the lyrics for years, crafting line after line late into the night in his underwear in a hotel room, punching keys on a typewriter while others were sleeping.

The song is full of paradox — sacred and secular, longing and regret, beauty and brokenness. It blends biblical imagery with deep human struggle. There’s David with his secret chord… Samson with his broken vow… and woven through it all is a cry: Hallelujah. Praise the Lord. Not because everything is perfect, but because even in our pain, there’s still something worth singing about.

Cohen once described “Hallelujah” not as a celebration of spiritual triumph, but as the offering of someone who keeps returning to praise, even after failure and sorrow. And isn’t that what grace does? It gives us a song, even in the rubble. It invites us to lift our hands, not because we’re whole, but because we’re held.

God’s love isn’t just for the polished and the put-together. It’s for the weary. The doubting. The ones with trembling voices who still dare to whisper, “Hallelujah.”

Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” That means your hallelujah doesn’t have to be loud or perfect — it just has to be real. And God welcomes it.

(Source: pitchfork.com)

Illustrations from Movies

The Iron Giant — Love That Lays Down Its Life

In the animated movie The Iron Giant, a mysterious robot falls from the sky into a small American town during the Cold War. At first, the people are terrified. He’s massive. He’s different. He could be dangerous.

But a young boy named Hogarth sees something more. He befriends the Giant and teaches him about right and wrong, about kindness, about love. Slowly, the Giant begins to change. He learns that he doesn’t have to be a weapon. He doesn’t have to be what others fear he might be. He can choose who he wants to be.

And then — the unthinkable happens. A missile is launched toward the town. It’s going to destroy everything and everyone. And the only one who can stop it… is the Giant. So what does he do? He flies upward — straight toward the missile.

And just before impact, he closes his eyes and whispers one word to himself — the name the boy gave him when he was learning what it meant to love: “Superman.” Then, he disappears in a flash of light.

The town is saved. Not by force. Not by violence. But by sacrifice. John 15:13 says, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Jesus didn’t come to be a weapon of judgment — He came to rescue the world through sacrifice. The cross looked like defeat, but it was actually the greatest victory of love the world has ever seen. Love that gives everything. Love that says, “I choose you, even if it costs me.”

(Source: Wikipedia)

Les Choristes — Love That Restores Dignity

The French film Les Choristes (“The Choir”) tells the story of a broken-down boys’ boarding school in post-war France. It’s a place where troubled boys are sent when no one else wants them — where discipline is harsh, the atmosphere is cold, and hope seems in short supply.

Then one day, a new teacher arrives — Clément Mathieu. He’s not much to look at. He’s quiet. Unimpressive. But he sees something that no one else sees: potential. Instead of punishing the boys with more rules, he listens. Instead of shouting, he sings. He starts a choir — something no one asked for, and no one believed was possible. The boys push back. Some mock him. Some are too wounded to trust. But slowly, something changes.

As they sing, their posture lifts. Their eyes brighten. Their behavior improves. They begin to believe they’re capable of something beautiful. And it all started with one man who saw them not for what they were — but for who they could become.

That’s the heart of God. In a world that labels and limits, God restores dignity. In a culture that throws people away, He calls us valuable. When others see brokenness, God sees possibility. He doesn’t wait until we clean ourselves up — He begins singing over us even while we’re still stuck in our mess.

Zephaniah 3:17 says, “The Lord your God is with you… He will take great delight in you; in His love He will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.” God’s love doesn’t just rescue — it restores.

And sometimes, the greatest miracle isn’t when someone’s circumstances change… it’s when they finally believe they’re worth loving.

(Source: Wikipedia)

Illustrations on God's Love from Literature

The Velveteen Rabbit — Love That Makes You Real

There’s a beloved children’s story called The Velveteen Rabbit, written by Margery Williams in 1922. It tells the tale of a stuffed toy rabbit who longs to become real — to matter, to be alive, to be truly loved.

One day, the rabbit asks the Skin Horse — an older, wiser toy — what it means to be “real.” The Skin Horse answers gently:“Real isn’t how you are made. It’s a thing that happens to you… When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you — then you become Real.”

The rabbit is confused. “Does it hurt?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” the Skin Horse says.

Later in the story, the boy who owns the Velveteen Rabbit grows sick with scarlet fever. When he recovers, the doctor tells the parents to burn everything that might be contaminated — including the rabbit.

The rabbit, heartbroken, lies in the trash heap, convinced that his love and loyalty were meaningless. But then — in a moment of grace — a fairy appears. She tells him, “You were Real to the boy… because he loved you. Now you shall be Real to everyone.” And she transforms him into a real, living rabbit — one that runs and plays and is fully alive.

Isn’t that what God’s love does? It finds us when we feel discarded. It tells us, “You are not forgotten. You are not junk. You are Mine.” It doesn’t just patch us up — it makes us new. Not because we were impressive, but because we were loved.

2 Corinthians 5:17 says, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has gone, the new is here!” God’s love doesn’t just improve your life. It makes you Real.

(Source: supersummary.org)

Jane Eyre — Love That Sees Beyond Scars

In Charlotte Brontë’s classic novel Jane Eyre, we meet a young orphan girl who grows up in hardship, mistreated by her relatives and sent to a cold, rigid boarding school. Through it all, Jane grows into a woman of integrity, faith, and quiet strength.

She eventually becomes a governess at Thornfield Hall and meets her employer, Mr. Rochester — a gruff, moody man with a mysterious past. Despite his harsh exterior and guarded soul, Jane sees something deeper in him. They fall in love, and just before they’re to be married, she discovers a terrible truth: he’s already married. His wife is mentally ill and hidden away in the attic.

Heartbroken, Jane walks away — not because she doesn’t love him, but because she refuses to compromise her soul. Time passes. Jane inherits a small fortune and learns that Rochester’s mansion has been burned down. His wife died in the fire, and Rochester was injured trying to save her. Now blind and crippled, he lives in seclusion.

Jane goes to him. And when he realizes she has returned, he is overwhelmed — not because she’s come back to the man he was, but because she has chosen to love the man he’s become.

She says to him: “I am my husband’s life as fully as he is mine… We are precisely suited.” It’s a powerful portrait of grace. Not love for what is beautiful, whole, or easy — but love that stays when life is broken and uncertain.

That’s the kind of love God has for us. Hosea 2:19–20 says, “I will betroth you to me forever… in love and compassion. I will betroth you in faithfulness, and you will acknowledge the Lord.” When we come to God — scarred, wounded, ashamed — He doesn’t turn away. He welcomes us with eyes that see beyond what we’ve done or lost. He loves us not for what we bring, but for who we are to Him. And in that love, we find restoration.

Metaphors for God's Love

1. The Sun — Constant, Whether You See It or Not

The sun shines every day, even when clouds hide it. Its warmth and light don’t depend on your awareness of it — it simply shines. God’s love is the same: constant, unwavering, and not dependent on your feelings or performance. Even in the storms of life, His love remains.

2. A Lighthouse — Unmoving, Yet Guiding

A lighthouse doesn’t chase down ships; it stands firm, shining steadily to guide them home. God’s love doesn’t manipulate or force itself on us — it faithfully calls us back, offering direction, warning, and welcome. Even if you’ve drifted far, His love remains where it has always been — waiting with light.

3. A Parent Adopting a Child — Chosen, Not Earned

Adoption is not based on the child’s merit — it’s a decision of the parent to love, provide, and welcome. That’s what God has done for us. Ephesians 1:5 says we’ve been adopted through Jesus Christ, not reluctantly, but “in accordance with His pleasure and will.” We are chosen, not because we earned it, but because He delights to love us.

4. Oxygen — Unseen, But Essential

We can’t see oxygen, but without it we’d collapse in moments. It’s always there, quietly sustaining every breath. God’s love is often like that — not always loud or obvious, but essential to our life and health. Just because you don’t “feel” it right now doesn’t mean it isn’t holding you up.

Illustrations on God's Love from Poetry

Julian of Norwich — “All Shall Be Well”

Julian of Norwich was a 14th-century theologian — and the first woman to write a book in English that we know of. She lived through incredible hardship: the Black Plague, political unrest, and personal suffering. Yet, out of all that darkness came one of the most hopeful and comforting visions of God’s love ever recorded.

In a series of visions she called “showings,” Julian described being shown the suffering of Christ and the depths of divine love. She struggled with how to reconcile the existence of pain and sin with a loving God. But in her prayer and contemplation, she heard this response from Christ: “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”

Not “some things.” Not “just the spiritual stuff.” All. Shall. Be. Well. Julian didn’t mean that everything would always feel good. She didn’t deny the brokenness of the world. But she believed — deeply — that because of God’s love, everything broken could be redeemed. Nothing would be wasted. Nothing would be lost.

That’s the power of unconditional love. It doesn’t always take away suffering — but it promises that suffering will never have the last word.

Romans 8:28 says, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him.” Not just in the easy things. In all things. The love of God does not erase pain — but it transforms it, surrounds it, redeems it. And one day, when we see the full picture, we will look back and realize: “All shall be well.”

Christina Rossetti — “None Other Lamb, None Other Name”

Christina Rossetti, a 19th-century English poet and devout Christian, is best known for her Christmas hymn “In the Bleak Midwinter.” But one of her more personal and intimate poems is titled “None Other Lamb.”

In it, she confesses that she has nothing else to cling to — no backup plan, no second source of hope. She writes: “None other Lamb, none other name,None other hope in heaven or earth or sea,None other hiding place from guilt and shame,None beside Thee.”

Her words aren’t polished with pride. They are raw with dependence. She speaks like someone who has reached the end of herself — and discovered that at the end, Jesus is still there.

There’s no bargaining. No credentials offered. Just a soul that knows its only shelter is love — not earned, but given. Later in the poem she says:

“My faith burns low, my hope burns low;Only my heart’s desire cries out in me…” Have you ever felt like that? Like your strength, your discipline, even your faith are weak — but your need for Jesus is still strong?

That is where grace meets us. God’s love is not contingent on the strength of your grip, but on the strength of His. When everything else fades — your confidence, your plans, your ability to perform — His love remains.

John 6:68 echoes this when Peter says to Jesus, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” When Jesus is your only hope — He is more than enough.

Quotes about God's Love

Brennan Manning — “God loves you as you are…”

Brennan Manning was a former priest, a recovering alcoholic, and a man who never claimed to be perfect — but always clung to grace. He once said:

“God loves you as you are, not as you should be. Because nobody is as they should be.” Let that sink in. We often assume that God loves some future, improved version of ourselves — the version that prays more, sins less, has their act together. But that version doesn’t exist. Not yet. And that’s not the version God is waiting on.

He loves you now — in your mess, in your confusion, in your weakness. That doesn’t mean He wants you to stay there. But it means His love isn’t a reward for progress — it’s the starting place for transformation.

Romans 5:8 reminds us, “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” You don’t have to become lovable for God to love you. He already does.

Augustine — “God loves each of us...”

St. Augustine, the 4th-century bishop and theologian, had a wild past and a transformed heart. He once wrote: “God loves each of us as if there were only one of us.”

That’s staggering. Because we sometimes imagine God’s love as this great ocean spread thin across billions of people. Surely, we think, He’s too busy. Surely we get a sliver of His attention while others get more. But not with God. He loves you individually, personally, uniquely — not as part of the crowd, but as if you were His only child. His focus isn’t diluted. His heart isn’t divided. His love is not a pie that runs out after too many slices.

You are seen. You are known. You are loved — as if you were the only one He ever made. Isaiah 43:1 echoes this beautifully: “I have called you by name. You are mine.”

Illustrations from Greco-Roman Culture

Honor-Shame Culture

The ancient Mediterranean world revolved around one thing: honor. Your worth was tied to your status — your family name, your reputation, your public standing. To lose honor was to lose everything. People would go to great lengths to avoid shame, because shame didn’t just affect you — it stained your whole family.

That’s why Jesus’ behavior was scandalous. He touched lepers. He ate with tax collectors. He spoke to Samaritans and befriended prostitutes. In an honor-shame culture, every one of those actions was unthinkable. Association with the unclean made you unclean. It was social suicide.

But Jesus didn’t just ignore shame — He bore it. Hebrews 12:2 says that He “endured the cross, scorning its shame.” Crucifixion wasn’t just painful — it was humiliating. Naked, rejected, mocked. The cross was the most shameful death imaginable. But Jesus didn’t run from it. He embraced it — for us.

And in doing so, He rewrote the honor code. He didn’t build His kingdom by exalting the powerful. He lifted up the lowly. He said the first would be last, and the last would be first. He gave dignity to those who had none.

In a world obsessed with appearances and reputation, Jesus offers something better: belovedness. You don’t have to perform. You don’t have to polish your résumé. You don’t have to fix your shame before you come.

Jesus already took your shame — and He offers you His honor. You are not your past. You are not your failures. You are not what people whisper behind your back. You are His.

God Rescues the Abandoned

In the Roman Empire, there was a common and heartbreaking practice known as “exposure.” If a baby was born with a disability, or simply wasn’t wanted — especially if it was a girl — the child could be left outside to die. No one was punished for it. It wasn’t considered murder. It was just how society worked.

Archaeologists have uncovered letters from Roman husbands to their wives that say things like, “If it’s a boy, keep it. If it’s a girl, expose it.” Imagine that. But then something happened that shocked the Roman world.

A strange new group of people — followers of a crucified Jewish rabbi — started finding these abandoned babies and taking them in. Feeding them. Naming them. Raising them as their own. Why? Because they believed every life mattered. That every child bore the image of God.

These early Christians remembered the words of Jesus: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). And in doing that, they embodied the Gospel.

Because the truth is — every one of us has been spiritually exposed. Cast off by sin. Left for dead by our own rebellion. But God didn’t leave us there. He came for us.

Ezekiel 16 describes Israel like an unwanted baby: “On the day you were born… you were thrown out into the open field… but I passed by and saw you kicking in your blood, and I said to you, ‘Live!’” That’s God’s love. The love that rescues the forgotten. The love that says, “You are not trash. You are mine.” The early church lived that out — and the world had never seen anything like it.

Illustrations on God's Love from the Early Church

The Agape Feast

In the first and second centuries, the early Christians gathered regularly — not just for worship or preaching, but for something called the Agape Feast.

Agape is the Greek word for unconditional, self-giving love. And these meals were more than potlucks — they were sacred spaces where the love of Christ was put into action. Rich and poor sat side by side. Slaves and free people shared bread from the same plate. Jews, Gentiles, men, women, children — all welcomed. All equal.

In a world defined by hierarchy — where who you were, what you owned, and where you sat at a table signified your worth — this was revolutionary. Roman society ran on status. But in the Agape Feast, all the status symbols were stripped away.

This was not just hospitality. It was theology with bread and wine. 1 Corinthians 11 suggests that when the church forgot this — when the wealthy started eating in private while the poor went hungry — Paul rebuked them strongly. Why? Because the table was supposed to reflect the Gospel.

The table said: You don’t earn a seat. You’re invited. You don’t bring your résumé — you bring your need. And the meal reminds us: we are all one in Christ.

This is what unconditional love looks like in practice. Not theory. Not sentiment. But service, inclusion, shared dignity. Galatians 3:28 says, “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

The Agape Feast wasn’t just a meal. It was a declaration. Love is the language of the Kingdom — and at God’s table, there is always room for one more.

Illustrations from Biblical Parallels

Hosea — Love That Refuses to Quit

Imagine being called by God to marry someone who will break your heart. That’s exactly what happened to the prophet Hosea. God told him to marry Gomer — a woman who would be unfaithful to him. She would leave him, betray him, even sell herself to others. And yet, Hosea obeyed. He loved her. He brought her home. Over and over again.

Eventually, Gomer leaves him completely and ends up enslaved — possibly in some form of sexual slavery or debt. And what does Hosea do? He buys her back. He walks into the slave market, pays the price for his own wife, and takes her home again — not as a slave, but as a beloved.

And all of this, God says, is a picture of His relationship with us. In Hosea 3:1, the Lord tells Hosea, “Go show your love to your wife again, though she is loved by another… Love her as the Lord loves the Israelites, though they turn to other gods.” That’s not cheap love. That’s costly, painful, undeserved love.

It’s the kind of love that says, “Even when you run, I’ll come after you. Even when you break my heart, I won’t give up on you.” That’s what God did for Israel. And that’s what He’s done for us — in Christ.

We were unfaithful. We were spiritually enslaved. And God didn’t just forgive us — He came to buy us back with the blood of His Son. He didn’t love us because we were faithful. He loved us to make us faithful. That’s not romanticism. That’s redemption.

(Source: Bible Project)

David and Mephibosheth — Love for the Forgotten

After King Saul and his son Jonathan were killed in battle, David ascended to the throne of Israel. In ancient times, that usually meant one thing: eliminate every member of the previous king’s family. That was how new kings secured power. No rivals. No threats.

But David did something no one expected. He asked, “Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness for Jonathan’s sake?” (2 Samuel 9:1).

They told him about Mephibosheth — Jonathan’s crippled son, living in a distant place called Lo-Debar. The name literally means “no pasture.” It was a forgotten place for a forgotten man. Mephibosheth had nothing to offer. He was lame in both feet. He had no power, no influence, no army, no kingdom. And he was the grandson of David’s enemy.

But David sent for him. And when Mephibosheth stood trembling before the king, David didn’t punish him. He said, “Don’t be afraid. I will surely show you kindness… and you will always eat at my table.”

David gave him land, servants, and honor. But more than that — he gave him a seat. At the royal table. Not for a visit — but forever. Why? Because of covenant love. Because of a promise David had made to Jonathan. Because love doesn’t forget.

That’s what God has done for us. We were in Lo-Debar — spiritually crippled, hiding in fear, cut off from hope. But God remembered His covenant. He came to find us. And He didn’t just forgive us — He seated us at His table. Romans 8:17 says we are “heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ.” You may feel unworthy. But grace has already pulled out your chair.

Illustrations on God's Love from Current Events

Ukrainians Who Stayed Behind

When the war broke out in Ukraine in 2022, many families fled the country in search of safety. Trains were packed. Roads were jammed. People carried their children, their pets, and what few possessions they could fit into a suitcase.

But not everyone left. Some parents — especially those with disabled children or elderly family members — chose to stay behind. Not because they didn’t fear for their lives, but because love wouldn’t let them leave someone behind.

There were reports of mothers staying in basements with medically fragile children, risking missile attacks rather than abandon their care. One father sheltered his elderly mother in a wheelchair for weeks in a church basement. Another refused to leave his son with cerebral palsy behind, even though it meant missing the last train out of Kyiv.

Why? Because love stays. Love protects. Love says, “If you’re not safe, I won’t be either.” That’s the heart of God. Jesus didn’t flee the danger — He walked straight into it. He didn’t climb out of the boat when the storm hit — He calmed it. He didn’t leave us in our brokenness — He came to dwell among us. And when the cost of love was death, He stayed.

John 10:11 says, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” You may feel abandoned by people. Forgotten by the world. But you have a God who didn’t run when things got hard. He stayed. He suffered. And He saved. That’s what love does.

Charles Mully — A Modern Picture of Redeeming Love

Charles Mully was born into poverty in Kenya. At just six years old, his parents abandoned him. He lived on the streets, begging, stealing, and sleeping wherever he could. No one reached out. No one came for him.

But God had other plans. Through a series of remarkable events, Charles found work, came to know Christ, and eventually became a wealthy businessman — owning farms, transportation companies, and real estate. He had achieved the dream: security, success, and comfort.

But then, something happened that changed everything. One day, as he was walking through a Kenyan town, a group of street children asked to guard his car. When he refused, they stole his tires. It rattled him — not because of the loss, but because he saw his past in their faces.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. He felt God asking him to do something unthinkable: give everything up, and go rescue street children — the very kind he once was. So he did.

He sold his businesses. He and his wife began taking in abandoned kids. One became ten. Ten became a hundred. They built homes, schools, clinics, and farms. Today, the Mully Children’s Family has rescued and raised over 26,000 children — feeding, educating, and loving them like their own. And when asked why he did it, Charles simply said, “I was once one of them. Now I must go back for them.”

That’s exactly what Jesus did for us. We were orphans — spiritually abandoned, broken by sin. And He didn’t just throw us some charity. He came Himself. He gave up everything. And He made us part of His family.

Romans 8:15 says, “You received the Spirit of adoption… by whom we cry, ‘Abba, Father.’” The Gospel is not that God tolerates you. It’s that He chose you. Brought you home. And calls you His child. That’s what redeeming love looks like.

Illustrations on God's Love from Fables, Parables & Folklore

The Cracked Pot — Beauty in What the World Discards

There’s an old Eastern parable about a water-bearer who carried two large pots, one on each end of a pole across his shoulders. Each day, he would walk to the stream, fill the pots, and carry water back to his master’s house.

One of the pots was perfect. It held water well and felt proud of its usefulness. The other pot was cracked. By the time they reached the house, it had leaked out half its water. Day after day, the cracked pot felt ashamed. It knew it was broken. It couldn’t perform like the other. It finally spoke to the water-bearer and said, “I’m sorry. I’m a failure. I lose half of what you give me.”

But the water-bearer smiled and said, “Have you noticed the flowers on your side of the path? I planted seeds there — and every day, you’ve been watering them. Your crack didn’t ruin the journey. It made something beautiful.”

That’s the love of God. He doesn’t discard the broken. He uses them. In 2 Corinthians 4:7, Paul writes, “We have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.”

Your cracks don’t disqualify you — they reveal His grace. God doesn’t just tolerate your weakness. He works through it. He plants seeds along your path, and what you thought was a leak becomes life for someone else. That’s love. Not just the love that saves you — but the love that gives your brokenness a purpose.

The Parable of the Lost Sheep — Love That Leaves the 99

Jesus once told a parable that stunned His audience. He said, “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?” (Luke 15:4)

Now to most people in the crowd, that would’ve sounded foolish. Who risks ninety-nine perfectly good sheep for one that wandered off? What shepherd does that? But that’s the point. Jesus isn’t describing an ordinary shepherd. He’s describing God.

In our world, we’re taught to count, to calculate, to prioritize efficiency. But God doesn’t love like that. His love isn’t statistical — it’s personal. When one sheep is lost, His heart aches. And He doesn’t wait for the sheep to wander back. He goes after it. Through thorns, over hills, into danger — He searches. And when He finds it, He doesn’t scold or punish. He lifts it onto His shoulders and rejoices.

God’s love doesn’t write you off because you’ve wandered. It doesn’t wait for you to prove you’re worth saving. It pursues. It finds. It carries. Jesus wasn’t just telling a story — He was telling us what He came to do. “The Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10).

And maybe today, you feel like that one sheep. You’ve strayed. You feel far away. But the Shepherd hasn’t stopped looking. He’s calling your name. And He’s ready to carry you home.

(Source: Christianity.com)

Illustrations from Other Cultures

Gratitude That Transforms

In Filipino culture, there is a deep concept known as utang na loob. Literally translated, it means “a debt of the inside” or “a debt of gratitude.” But it’s not like a bill you owe — it’s far more personal.

When someone helps you in a way that changes your life — like giving you a home when you were homeless, or sending you to school when no one else would — you don’t just say thank you and move on. You carry that act in your soul. You honor it. You live your life differently because of it.

Utang na loob is not obligation in a cold, forced sense. It’s relationship. It’s love. It’s a lifelong response to undeserved kindness. That’s exactly what God’s love produces in us. He doesn’t demand payment. We can never “repay” the cross. But when you realize what He’s done — when you understand the grace you’ve received — you don’t walk away unchanged. You live in response. Romans 12:1 says, “In view of God’s mercy, offer your bodies as a living sacrifice…” Not out of guilt. Out of gratitude.

Salvation is not a transaction — it’s a transformation. Grace doesn’t say, “Pay Me back.” Grace says, “Let this change you.” Utang na loob captures that beautifully. When you’ve been deeply loved, you live differently. Not to earn — but to honor.

The Ethiopian Coffee Ceremony

In Ethiopia, coffee isn’t just a drink — it’s a ritual of community, dignity, and presence. The traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremony is a slow, deliberate process. Green coffee beans are roasted over a fire in front of the guests. The rich smell fills the room. Then the beans are ground by hand, brewed slowly in a special clay pot called a jebena, and poured into small cups without handles.

But here’s the most striking part: the process takes time. You don’t rush it. You don’t grab your coffee and go. You sit. You wait. You talk. You laugh. You listen. The ceremony is as much about the people as the drink.

It’s an act of honor — a way of saying, “You matter enough for me to slow down.” In many homes, it happens three times a day. And when a guest is invited to join, it means they are deeply valued. That’s a beautiful picture of God’s love.

We often imagine God as busy, distant, or rushing to manage the universe. But Scripture paints a different image. Psalm 23 says, “You prepare a table before me…” Not a drive-thru. A table. And in Revelation 3:20, Jesus says, “I stand at the door and knock… If anyone opens the door, I will come in and eat with them.”

God doesn’t just want to save you — He wants to sit with you. To know you. To linger in your life. Real love doesn’t hurry past people. It draws near. It slows down. It says, “You are worth the time.” And the Gospel isn’t just that God makes coffee for you — it’s that He stays to drink it with you.

Illustrations on God's Love from U.S. History

George Washington Carver — Love that Heals, Not Hates

George Washington Carver was born into slavery during the Civil War. He never knew his father, and his mother was kidnapped when he was an infant. Raised by the people who once enslaved his family, Carver grew up facing rejection, racism, and poverty. Yet somehow, in the midst of all that pain, he grew a heart full of love — not bitterness.

Carver had a passion for learning. Denied entry into many schools because of his skin color, he walked for miles to attend any place that would accept him. Eventually, he became a world-renowned agricultural scientist — developing over 300 uses for peanuts and transforming Southern farming.

But it wasn’t just his scientific brilliance that made Carver remarkable. It was his spirit. When asked why he didn’t lash out at those who hated him, Carver replied, “I will never let another man ruin my life by making me hate him.”

He once said, “Fear of man brings a snare… but perfect love casts out fear. I found a kind of love in God that made fear and hate impossible.” That’s the love of Jesus. The kind of love that doesn’t just survive injustice — it overcomes it with grace. The kind of love that refuses to let the world harden your heart.

Romans 12:21 says, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” Carver lived that. His love didn’t ignore the pain — it just refused to pass it on. Because when you’ve been loved by God, you don’t have to keep the cycle of hate going. You can break it. You can bless those who curse you. You can forgive, not because it’s easy — but because you’re free.

The Underground Railroad

The Underground Railroad wasn’t a railroad at all. It was a secret network of routes, safe houses, and courageous people — all committed to one thing: helping enslaved men, women, and children escape to freedom.

It operated in shadows. By candlelight. In basements and barns. Conductors risked everything — fines, imprisonment, even death — to shelter those on the run. Escaped slaves moved by night, often guided only by the North Star and the whispered directions of strangers who treated them not as fugitives, but as family.

And why did they do it? Because love does that. Real love doesn’t just wish you well — it walks with you. It opens its door. It lights a lamp. It takes your hand and says, “You don’t have to run alone.” That’s exactly what Jesus has done for us.

In John 8:36, He says, “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” We were trapped — slaves to sin, chained by guilt, hiding in the dark. And Jesus didn’t just tell us where to go. He came for us. He broke the chains. And now, He walks with us every step of the way.

The Underground Railroad is a picture of the Church at its best: moving quietly, courageously, sacrificially — not for applause, but for love. It reminds us that the Gospel is not just about personal salvation — it’s about setting captives free. Because the love of God doesn’t stay in comfort. It moves into danger. It walks into the dark to bring people home.

(Source: Wikipedia)

Illustrations on God's Love from Sports

Gale Sayers & Brian Piccolo

In the 1960s, Gale Sayers and Brian Piccolo were running backs for the Chicago Bears. At the time, the NFL — like much of America — was racially divided. Black and white players didn’t room together. Didn’t usually socialize. But the Bears broke tradition, pairing Gale, a Black player, with Brian, a white one, as roommates.

What began as a forced pairing grew into one of the most beautiful friendships in sports history. They trained together. Pushed each other. Laughed together. They were competitors on the field — but brothers off it.

Then, Brian got sick. Diagnosed with cancer at only 26. Gale stayed by his side through the surgeries, the treatments, the decline. When Gale won the NFL’s most courageous player award, he stood at the podium and said, “You flatter me by giving me this award, but I tell you here and now — I accept it for Brian Piccolo. He is the man of courage who should receive this.”

Not just love for the easy moments. Love that stays through suffering. Love that puts someone else’s name above your own. It’s the kind of love Jesus showed — not just by healing the crowds, but by walking with His disciples all the way to the cross. John 15:13 says, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

Sayers and Piccolo didn’t just break a racial barrier — they modeled Gospel friendship: loyal, selfless, unshakable. Because in a world full of rivalry, the love of Christ calls us to something deeper — to stand with one another, to lift one another, to finish the race together.

Derek Redmond — The Father Who Ran Onto the Track

At the 1992 Olympic Games in Barcelona, British sprinter Derek Redmond lined up for the 400-meter semi-final. He was a top contender, a favorite to medal. As the race began, he exploded out of the blocks and started strong. But halfway down the backstretch — disaster struck.

Derek tore his hamstring. He crumpled to the track, clutching his leg in agony. Medics rushed out, but he waved them off. Slowly, painfully, he got back up. He wasn’t running for victory anymore — he was running to finish.

Then, something remarkable happened. Out of the crowd came a man — pushing past security, dodging officials — running down the track. It was Derek’s father, Jim Redmond.

He wrapped his arm around his son, held him up, and whispered, “We’re going to finish this together.” With tears streaming down both their faces, they hobbled toward the finish line — side by side.

The crowd erupted. And in that moment, it didn’t matter that Derek didn’t win the race. Because what people saw that day wasn’t speed — it was love. Love that shows up. Love that carries you. Love that says, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Psalm 94:18 says, “When I said, ‘My foot is slipping,’ your unfailing love, Lord, supported me.” And Isaiah 46:4 says, “Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he… I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” You may fall. You may limp. You may be too weak to finish on your own.

But the Father is not staying in the stands. He’s coming onto the track. And He’s not letting go.

Illustrations on God's Love from Little Known or Forgotten Characters

Francis Asbury — Love That Rides Through Storms

When we think of the great founders of the American Church, names like Edwards or Whitefield may come to mind. But Francis Asbury? Many have never heard of him — even though he shaped the faith of a continent.

Born in England in 1745, Asbury came to the American colonies at just 26 years old. He arrived with one goal: to spread the love of Christ to a new nation. He didn’t build cathedrals or lead large revivals. He got on a horse. And for the next 45 years, that’s where he stayed.

He rode through rain, snow, swamps, and wilderness. He crossed the Alleghenies over 60 times. He preached in barns, taverns, cabins — anywhere people would gather. He slept on dirt floors. Endured sickness. Faced mobs. Was mistaken for a British spy during the Revolution. But he never stopped.

Why? Because he believed the Gospel was for everyone — not just the city-dwellers or the wealthy — but the farmers, the frontier families, the enslaved, the poor.

By the end of his life, Asbury had traveled over 270,000 miles and preached more than 16,000 sermons. When he arrived, there were only 300 Methodists in America. When he died, there were over 200,000.

But it wasn’t the numbers that defined him. It was his heart. He once said, “If I were young again, I would preach night and day, and ride day and night… rather than not find souls converted to God.”

That’s the heart of Christ. Luke 19:10 says, “The Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” Jesus didn’t wait in comfort — He came for us. He rode into our world. And He kept going — through rejection, through suffering, through the cross. Francis Asbury followed that same path. Not for glory. Not for comfort. But because real love rides through storms to reach the soul.

Mary Slessor — The Missionary Who Moved In

In the late 1800s, in the dense forests of what is now Nigeria, Mary Slessor walked where few dared. She was a single Scottish woman, short and red-haired, with little formal education — but a fierce love for Jesus and an unshakable sense of calling.

What set Mary apart wasn’t just where she went — it was how she loved. In the Calabar region, local tribal customs included infanticide — especially for twins, who were believed to be cursed. These babies were often abandoned in the bush or left to die. Mary couldn’t stand it.

So she began rescuing them. She would wrap the abandoned babies in blankets, bring them home, and raise them herself — not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually. Her hut became a nursery, a school, and a place of safety. Eventually, the villagers gave her a new name: “the white Ma.”

But Mary didn’t just rescue babies. She became a peacemaker. When tribal conflicts erupted, she mediated. When chiefs fought, she reasoned. When injustice loomed, she stood in the middle — sometimes literally.

How? Why? Because love had moved in. And love doesn’t run away. Mary once said, “Christ never was in a hurry. There was no rushing forward, no anticipating, no fretting over what might be. Each day’s duties were done as each day brought them, and the rest was left with God.”

She lived among the people, spoke their language, respected their culture, and shared Christ not just with words — but with her life. That’s what Jesus did.

Philippians 2:7 says He “made Himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant… being made in human likeness.” And Mary Slessor followed that example. Her life was poured out — not on a stage, but in a village. Not with fanfare, but with faithfulness. And love like that changes the world — one child, one heart, one soul at a time.

(Source: Wikipedia)

Adoniram Judson

Adoniram Judson was America’s first foreign missionary — and his story is one of heartbreaking perseverance. In 1812, he set sail for Burma (now Myanmar), a land completely unfamiliar with the Gospel. It was hot, hostile, and filled with political unrest. He spent six years before seeing a single convert. Six years — with no visible fruit.

But he kept going. Then came personal tragedy. His wife Ann died after a long illness. His baby daughter died soon after. Adoniram was devastated. He dug their graves with his own hands in foreign soil, surrounded by strangers, and wrote in his journal, “God is to me the Great Unknown. I believe in Him, but I find Him not.”

Yet even then — he stayed. He buried his heartbreak in the Burmese language. He kept translating the Bible. Kept preaching. Kept serving. Eventually, revival came. Converts multiplied. Churches were planted. By the time of his death, Judson had translated the entire Bible into Burmese and helped establish over 100 churches and thousands of believers.

Today, millions of Christians in Myanmar trace their spiritual heritage back to Judson. He once said, “The future is as bright as the promises of God.” Adoniram’s story reminds us: love for God and people doesn’t always feel victorious. Sometimes it feels like digging graves in the dark. But real love — Gospel love — stays.

Galatians 6:9 urges us, “Let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due season we shall reap, if we do not lose heart.”

(Source: Brittanica.com)

Illustrations on God's Love from Court Cases

Clarence Gideon — Love That Defends the Least

In 1961, a man named Clarence Earl Gideon was arrested in Florida for breaking into a pool hall and stealing change from a vending machine. He couldn’t afford a lawyer, and when he asked the judge to appoint one, he was denied. At the time, Florida only provided attorneys in capital cases.

Gideon — poor, uneducated, and sitting in jail — decided to fight back. With a pencil and prison paper, he wrote a petition to the U.S. Supreme Court. And somehow — they agreed to hear his case.

The Court ruled unanimously in Gideon v. Wainwright (1963) that the right to legal counsel is a fundamental right, guaranteed by the Constitution. From that day forward, anyone who cannot afford an attorney must be given one — because justice shouldn’t only belong to the wealthy.

Gideon’s case changed history. But more than that, it echoes the Gospel.

Because Jesus is our Advocate. 1 John 2:1 says, “If anyone sins, we have an advocate with the Father — Jesus Christ the righteous.” In other words, when we stood guilty with no defense, Jesus stepped in. He didn’t just pay our fine — He argued our case with His own blood.

Gideon reminds us: love defends the least. And real justice means standing with those who can’t stand alone.

(Source: Wikipedia)

Dietrich Bonhoeffer — Love That Stands Against Evil

In Nazi Germany, silence was the easiest path. Many church leaders looked the other way as Hitler rose to power. But not Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Bonhoeffer was a German pastor and theologian who saw clearly what others tried to ignore. He believed that love of neighbor — real Christian love — meant resisting evil, not cooperating with it.

So he spoke out. He helped form the Confessing Church, a group that refused to swear allegiance to Hitler. He helped smuggle Jews out of Germany. And eventually, he joined a secret plot to overthrow the regime.

For that, he was arrested. In prison, Bonhoeffer didn’t despair. He wrote letters filled with courage and hope. He ministered to fellow prisoners. He trusted God even when the future was dark.

Just weeks before the war ended, Bonhoeffer was executed. But his words still speak today: “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.”

That’s love — not sentimentality, but sacrificial courage. 1 John 3:18 says, “Let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.” Bonhoeffer didn’t just preach love. He embodied it — costly, Christ-shaped love that stands when it would be easier to sit down.

(Source: Goodreads)

Little Known or Surprising Facts

The Longest Correspondence in History

Did you know the longest correspondence in recorded history is a series of love letters… between a soldier and a young woman during World War II? Over the course of six years, the soldier sent more than 1,500 letters — sometimes multiple per day — to the woman he loved back home.

They weren’t married yet. He had no guarantee she would wait for him. But he kept writing. One letter contained only a single phrase: “I’m still loving you. Just needed you to know.”

That’s love — persistent, hopeful, unshaken by time or silence. Romans 8:38–39 says nothing can separate us from the love of God — not height, depth, life, death, angels, demons… or even distance.

In a world full of instant messages and forgotten conversations, that kind of persistent love stands out.

The “Unwanted” Tomb of Jesus

When Jesus died, His followers didn’t have a burial plan. Most criminals were thrown into mass graves — unmarked, unmourned, forgotten. But then something surprising happened. A rich man named Joseph of Arimathea — a quiet follower of Jesus — stepped forward. He went to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body. Then, he placed Jesus in his own brand new tomb, freshly carved from stone.

Joseph gave up his future resting place for someone the world called a criminal. He gave Jesus his grave. But here’s the twist…Jesus only borrowed it.

He didn’t need it for long. Three days later, it was empty. Isaiah had prophesied centuries earlier: “He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death” (Isaiah 53:9). Even in burial, God’s love showed up in detail.

The grave Joseph gave away became a testimony for eternity. And here’s the Gospel twist: Jesus gave up His life, so you wouldn’t need your tomb forever either.

Don’t Just Read About Great Illustrations — Create Them

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