Why Love Never Fails?

A reflection on excellence, love, and transformation. How the year’s trials became lessons in divine refinement.

I used to think love meant being kind. Now I think it means being grounded enough to stay kind. — Nuniek Tirta Sari

Today's trivia:

Morning: took our daughters to survey our dream penthouse.
Afternoon: had sushi for lunch at the mall right below the apartment.
Evening: attended the fourth Sunday service in JPCC.
Night: visited Floii, Homedecor, and Indocommtech in ICE (we took free bus)

Met Yuki and hubby at Floii

I want to talk about the sermon today that was as excellent as the title: The Most Excellent Way.

Pastor Alvin Rajagukguk said: “The most excellent way is love.” Kasih.

Excellence isn’t about achievement. It’s about how deeply we can love in the middle of everything we don’t understand.

I thought back to this past year: the chaos, the heartbreak, the betrayal. The months when my husband was being attacked. They didn’t just attack him. They came after me, and even our daughters. That part stung, not because of fear or anger, but because I couldn’t wrap my head around how people can be so cruel to those who once fed them, quite literally.

But here’s the wild thing: I didn’t hate them.

I actually felt sorry for them. Because I could see the desperation behind their actions; the primal, cornered-animal energy of people reacting out of hunger. Like Jesus said about the ones who crucified Him: “Forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

And so, we chose not to play the villain they painted us to be. We didn’t retaliate. We didn’t go public. We just… kept doing good. Kept trying our best efforts.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t lose by being kind; unless your definition of “winning” is revenge.

It was one of those seasons where you realize faith isn’t a theory. It’s muscle memory.

You either sink into bitterness or you cling to grace with trembling hands.

I remember choosing to keep doing good even when it didn’t feel “fair.” Not because I wanted to look noble, but because my soul couldn’t bear the weight of hate.

And that’s when I learned something that changed me: Love isn’t a reaction. It’s a decision to stay aligned with who you are, even when everything around you tries to pull you off course.

Months later, those same people who hurt us thanked and apologized, after they got what they asked for.

That moment confirmed what the pastor preached today: our job is to do good; God’s job is to change hearts.

It’s funny how that works. You can’t “logic” your way into someone’s heart. Only love can do that, and not the fluffy kind, but the agape kind. The love that chooses to stay patient when you’re misunderstood.

I’ll admit, it’s not easy. There were moments I wanted to scream, “Do you even realize what we went through for you?” But each time, a small, steady voice reminded me:

“Your strength may fail you, but God is enough for you.”

And He really is.

Because the truth is, if we haven’t yet excelled in our careers, finances, or dreams, it’s okay. We can start by excelling in love first.

The sermon reminded us that love never fails. Why? Because God is love!! ❤️

On the drive home, we talked about all this.

We had been shaken, yes. But not destroyed.

We had been tested, yes. But not undone.

Hatred drains energy. Love restores it.
Bitterness isolates. Love connects.
Revenge burns bridges. Love builds quiet gardens in the ruins.

And maybe that’s the point of divine refinement: not to prove our faith, but to make it more authentic.

There’s a quiet kind of excellence that doesn’t announce itself. It shows up in how you respond when people misunderstand you. In how you hold your peace when others project their chaos onto you. In how you keep your heart open, even after it’s been bruised.

Love, I’m learning, is not sentimental. It’s sacred.
It’s the art of surrendering control and trusting that light will find its way through the cracks.

If I’m honest, there are still days I wonder if being “too kind” makes me naïve.

But maybe the real question is: what’s the alternative?

To close off? To match cruelty with cruelty?

To become like the people who hurt us?

No. I can’t.

Because every time I choose love, even clumsy, uncertain love, I come back home to myself.

And that’s what wholeness feels like.

So here’s what I know now:

You don’t need to be perfect to be excellent.

You don’t need to be strong to be faithful.

You just need to keep choosing love, over and over, until it becomes who you are.

Because love, the real, grounded, self-denying love, isn’t weakness.

It’s strength that’s learned the language of gentleness.

If you’ve ever been accused, misunderstood, or mistreated by the very people you tried to help, welcome to the club. You’re in good company.

Keep doing good anyway.
Keep showing up with grace anyway.
Keep being excellent in love, even when you’re surrounded by mediocrity in behavior.

Because one day, people will see. Or maybe they won’t.
But either way, your peace will stay intact.

And that’s when you realize the real victory isn’t proving them wrong; it’s staying kind without losing yourself.

So no, kindness isn’t weakness. It’s quiet strength. The kind that doesn’t shout, doesn’t rush to defend, doesn’t retaliate. The kind that stands tall with peace as its shield and love as its sword.

And maybe that’s what God’s been teaching me all along:

that excellence isn’t about how far I rise,

but how deeply I’m rooted in love that doesn’t fail.

When you can stay kind in the middle of chaos, you’re already winning in ways the world doesn’t understand.

Sunday, 26 October 2025

Nuniek Tirta Sari