What Love Demands When the Stakes Are High
My mom tested positive for COVID today.
When I called her, her voice gave it away: strained, congested, worn thin. She listed the symptoms like facts: fever, fatigue, chills— the works. Too sick to function, but still moving. Then, almost casually, she said she was driving to the office to pick up her laptop.
I didn’t know what to say. I wasn't surprised—this is who she is—but still, it stunned me. Because even with her body asking for pause, her instinct was motion. Not rest. Not true self-care. Her instinct was to work. To show up for others. To give more than she had.
That right there is what Q3 pressure can do to people. It convinces us the show must go on—no matter the cost to our bodies, our rest, or our sense of worth.
When the Demands Rise, What Gives Way First?
The year is officially more than halfway over. Goals and KPIs must be reviewed. Budgets balanced. Priorities realigned. Urgency becomes our currency. Pressure, not passion, our driver. And somewhere in the middle of it, we stop asking how people are and only ask what they’ve done.
We stop seeing people and start tracking performance. Our conversations collapse into checklists: “Have you followed up?” “Have you updated the spreadsheet?” “Have you sent the numbers?” Human complexity flattens into deliverables. Before we know it, we’ve stopped tending to each other—and started managing outcomes instead of people.
And somewhere in the the noise and grind—our spirit begs the question: where is the love?
When Pressure is Real, How Do We Keep Love Central?
In 1 Corinthians 13, we’re told love is patient, love is kind. It doesn’t envy or boast. It’s not proud or self-seeking. It doesn’t dishonor others. It’s not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs. It protects, trusts, hopes, and perseveres.
That’s not a soft definition. That’s a challenge, especially when the pressure’s on.
Because when the pace picks up, patience feels expensive. When the deadline looms, kindness feels optional. When resources are tight, self-seeking feels like survival.
But this is exactly where love has to live, not as sentiment, but as practice. As a posture. As a decision to value people more than outcomes.
To lead with love under pressure means we slow our reactions so we can actually hear what someone is saying. It means we offer support without strings attached. It means we name our limits and respect the limits of others. It means we check in, not because it’s on the checklist, but because people deserve to be seen.
Love isn’t a detour from the work. Love is the work.
Reframing Leadership as Love
Let’s be clear: the kind of love we’re talking about here is agapē love—unselfish, active, steadfast. The kind of love that Jesus modeled. It’s not about letting people off the hook or avoiding hard truths. In fact, agapē love calls us to greater responsibility: to see clearly, speak truthfully, and act with justice and integrity. But it changes the posture. It shifts us from control to care. From critique to curiosity. From "get it done" to "how can I walk with you as we move this forward?"
Love in leadership might look like:
Holding a team member accountable for a missed deliverable and asking if there are barriers they’re navigating that they need support with.
Giving clear, honest feedback, not to tear someone down, but to build mutual trust and growth.
Saying, "This needs to be done," while also asking, "How can I help lighten the load to make it doable?"
Reminding someone of their value even when they miss the mark—because love separates behavior from identity.
It’s not about lowering the bar. It’s about holding the bar while staying connected to the person reaching for it.
Practicing Love When the Pressure Is On
To live out the 124 Movement values in a high-pressure season, practice these three anchors:
1. Embody Jesus-Centered Values
Ask: How can I practice compassion, grace, humility, and mercy, especially when it’s uncomfortable or inconvenient?
Compassion: Am I moved by care, or just reacting from control?
Grace: Am I creating space for restoration, or just punishing imperfection?
Humility: Am I willing to serve, even as I lead?
Mercy: Am I offering others what I hope to receive when I fall short?
2. Yield to Wisdom:
When everything feels urgent, practice discernment. Not every fire needs your immediate attention. Pause before reacting.
Ask: Is this urgency coming from fear, or is it aligned with what truly matters? Create space to listen for clarity, insight, and God’s direction before you move.
3. Take Ownership
Take stock of how you're leading. Are you making demands without offering support? Are you modeling what you expect of others? If not, name it. Reset. Realign.
Let This Be the Season Where Love Holds
The pressure will come—deadlines, demands, expectations stacked like bricks. But it doesn’t have to cost your humanity. I think about my mom, sick and worn down, still getting in her car to pick up her laptop. Her body said pause, but the world around her didn’t. And in her choice to keep going, I saw how deeply we’ve all internalized the idea that worth must be earned—again and again—through output.
But what if this season didn’t require that kind of sacrifice? What if love held its ground—gentle but unwavering—reminding us who we are, whose we are, and how worthy we are of being treated with care, always.
Let this be the quarter where love doesn’t whisper in the background but anchors the whole room. Where we let people be human, even when the stakes feel high. Where the calendar doesn’t silence compassion. Where excellence doesn’t come at the expense of empathy.
Start with love. Not the soft kind. The kind that slows us down just enough to see each other. Stay with love. When it’s awkward. When it’s inconvenient. When it would be easier not to care. End in love. Because everything else fades, but this—this is the part that lasts.