Do We Owe Each Other Anything? (A Christian Take That’s Not Just “Be Nice”)

I saw this book, What We Owe to Each Other, while watching The Good Place (yes, the show with flying shrimp and moral philosophy), and it honestly stopped me in my tracks. Because suddenly I couldn't shake off this question:

Do I actually owe anything to the random person next to me on the train? The hawker auntie? The guy who ghosted me on Telegram?

Isn't it enough to just live quietly, mind my own business, don’t murder anyone, and be generally polite? But then again… was that what Jesus modeled?

Because, spoiler alert: Jesus did not mind His own business.

And now here I am, writing a blog post wondering if I owe the person beside me more than a smile and the occasional door-hold. And you? You’re here too, probably asking yourself the same uncomfortable question.

Let’s get into it.

The Invisible Social Contracts We Keep Breaking

There’s this unspoken rule of modern life: “You do you, I’ll do me.”
Which sounds very adult and boundaries-forward, until you realise… it's also kinda lonely. Isolating. Cold. And maybe, just maybe, not exactly what God designed.

The Christian faith is fundamentally relational. We're created in relationship (Trinity), for relationship (community), and by a relational God (cue the whole incarnation thing). But somehow, in our hyper-individual world, we’ve accidentally made following Jesus a solo sport.

Except it’s not.

“Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matthew 22:39)

Not tolerate. Not ignore. Love.

And love? That’s an action. A cost. A commitment. Sometimes a sacrifice. Which, yikes, feels a bit more demanding than just being “nice.”

So What Do We Actually Owe to Each Other?

Let’s break this down in very real, very inconvenient terms:

We owe people our attention.
Not the awkward half-nod while scrolling TikTok. Real attention. The kind that notices when someone looks weary. The kind that listens without waiting to talk.
We owe people dignity.
Even the irritating ones. Especially the irritating ones. Everyone we encounter bears the image of God. That doesn’t mean we need to like everyone, but it does mean we treat them with worth.
We owe people forgiveness.
Not for them, but for us. For God. Because grace given freely is the most confusing and beautiful thing a watching world can’t explain.
We owe people truth.
Not the “truth bomb” type that bulldozes. But the truth that says, “Hey, I love you too much to let you believe lies about yourself.”
We owe people presence.
Actual, embodied, messy-with-you presence. That “I’ll sit with you in your ugly cry even if I have nothing to say” kind of presence.

Sounds like a lot, right?

It is.

But Hold Up, Do We Really Owe That Much?

Here's the plot twist: you don't owe them because they're perfect or earned it. You owe it because you’ve been loved like this first.

“We love because He first loved us.” (1 John 4:19)

God didn’t wait until we behaved before He poured Himself out. Jesus didn’t say, “You know what, once you clean up, then I’ll go to the cross.” No. He came while we were still messy. That’s the blueprint.

So yes, we owe. Not out of guilt or religion or weird moral points. But because love leaves a debt behind. A good one. A life-changing one.

But What About Boundaries?

I hear you. I’m also a recovering people-pleaser who once tried to spiritually justify over-functioning until I cried into my cereal.

This isn’t about being everyone’s emotional sponge. It’s about living from a posture of generous love instead of self-preservation. It's the difference between serving from a full cup and people-pleasing from an empty one.

You owe people love, not access.

Jesus loved everyone but didn’t let everyone into His inner circle. He gave His time, His healing, His teaching, but He still withdrew to rest. Still walked away sometimes. Still said no. You can too.

How This Actually Looks on a Random Tuesday

You look the cleaner in the eye and say “thank you.”
You listen to your friend without trying to fix them.
You don’t lash out at the passive-aggressive auntie.
You pray for the annoying person instead of mentally roasting them.
You slow down enough to care, even when it’s inconvenient.

When You Don’t Feel Like Loving Anyone

Honestly, same. Some days I don’t even like people. I just want to hole up with Jesus and my AirPods and pretend no one else exists.

But that’s when I remember: love isn’t a vibe. It’s a choice. A spiritual muscle.

And sometimes the Holy Spirit helps you flex it when you’re too tired to lift even your own mood.

The Quiet Radicalism of Choosing to Care

In a world that’s always rushing, always self-promoting, always filtering and curating, choosing to actually see people is rebellion.

It’s what makes us stand out.

It’s what builds the Kingdom.

It’s what makes people say, “Wait… why are you like this?”

And then you get to say, Because Someone saw me first.

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FAQs

Q: What does the Bible say about loving strangers?

A: The Bible clearly commands believers to love and care for strangers. In both the Old and New Testaments, God emphasizes hospitality, empathy, and justice toward those outside our immediate circles. Leviticus 19:34 says, “The stranger who dwells among you shall be to you as one born among you, and you shall love him as yourself.” This verse ties directly into Jesus’ teaching in the New Testament to love our neighbor, whether familiar or foreign.

God consistently reminds His people that they were once strangers too (Exodus 22:21, Deuteronomy 10:19). Jesus even tells a story about a Samaritan, a cultural outsider, being the true neighbor (Luke 10:25–37), showing us that love crosses all barriers. Loving strangers isn’t just a moral suggestion; it’s a radical, kingdom-oriented act that reflects God’s own heart for the outsider, the forgotten, and the unseen.

Q: What to do when you have nothing left to give?

A: When you have nothing left to give, the Bible invites you to rest in God’s strength instead of your own. Isaiah 40:29 says, “He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might He increases strength.” You are not expected to serve or love from burnout. Sometimes, the most faithful thing you can do is pause, breathe, and let God refill what’s been emptied.

Even Jesus withdrew to quiet places to rest (Luke 5:16), reminding us that ministry and love don’t flow from striving, they flow from abiding. If your tank is dry, don’t guilt-trip yourself into giving more. Let the Shepherd lead you beside still waters. Let others carry you for a while. Even resting can be an act of worship and trust.

Q: What is the Christian thing to do when people seem unkind?

A: Yhen people are unkind, the Christian response is to meet hostility with grace, not retaliation. Romans 12:17–18 says, “Do not repay anyone evil for evil… If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.” That doesn’t mean becoming a doormat, it means choosing the higher road, the Christ-like response, even when it’s frustrating or unfair.

Jesus didn’t just preach love your enemies. He actually did it, even while hanging on a cross. That doesn’t make it easy, but it does make it possible, through the Holy Spirit. You can walk away, set boundaries, even speak the truth in love, but do it with a heart that refuses to harden. You’re not just representing yourself. You’re reflecting Him.

Relevant Reads:

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Your Turn (No Pressure, But I’m Genuinely Curious):

What do you think we owe to each other?

Have you had moments where someone’s unexpected kindness wrecked you in a good way?

Or maybe you’re the one who’s been loving without recognition and you’re just tired?

Tell me below. I read every comment and I’m cheering you on. 💬

And if you’ve been quietly thinking, I don’t have it in me anymore to care, that’s okay too.
Jesus sees that. And He cares for you. Always has. Always will.

You don’t owe the world perfection. You owe it love.

And love? You’ve got a Source.

Now go live a little rebeliously kind. Just like Jesus.

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