A Witty conversation between Selfishness and Foolishness

 

Selfishness:
Ah, Folly! Long time. How have you been?

Foolishness:
Hello, Selfie. I’m doing wonderfully. And you? Still capturing hearts?

Selfishness:
Capturing? My dear friend, I rule them. People today can live without their loved ones, but they struggle to live without me.

Foolishness:
True. As long as your tank of pride stays full, people gladly invite you in. And once you’re there, their lives slowly begin to revolve around you.

Selfishness:
And what about you? People seem to love your company as well.

Foolishness:
Of course. I simply dull their sensitivity to right and wrong. Once ignorance fills their minds, they stop questioning themselves.

Selfishness:
Ah, yes. When you cloud their judgment, I can easily take control of their desires.

Foolishness:
And when you inflate their ego, they stop listening to wisdom — which makes my job effortless.

Selfishness:
Isn’t it interesting how often we live together in the same person?

Foolishness:
Indeed. In fact, it’s easiest for me to stay where you already reside. Your pride guards me well.

Selfishness:
And when you settle first, you make sure no one grows wise enough to throw me out.

Foolishness:
You see, my friend, we make a perfect pair.

Selfishness:
Yes. I cannot thrive without you.

Foolishness:
And I cannot survive without you.

Selfishness:
Together, we quietly rule many hearts.

Foolishness:
And the tragic part is — people rarely notice we are there.

Redefining "I Love You"

"I LOVE  YOU"

Perhaps no three words are more romanticised in the English language other than "I LOVE YOU". Across cultures, across generations, across continents, these words carry immense weight. Deep down, every one of us longs to hear them. Why? Because buried in the depths of every human heart is a desire to be loved, to be accepted, to belong.

We stretch ourselves so much trying to earn love. We adjust our personalities, pursue success, maintain appearances, and sometimes even hide our true selves, hoping that someone will say, “I love you,” and mean it. We crave the security, affirmation, and happiness we believe those words will bring.

When someone says, “I love you,” we often hear this:
You will make me happy.
You will be there for me.
You will fulfill me.

And when we say, “I love you” to someone else, it can quietly carry the same expectation:
You will care for me.
You will complete me.
You will give me joy.

Much of human love, beautiful as it can be, is often intertwined with what we receive. It is frequently driven by how the other person makes us feel. It is love that hopes to gain.

But two thousand years ago, a man redefined those three words forever.

He did not propose with flowers or roses.
He did not offer poetic promises or grand romantic gestures.

He offered His blood.

On a rugged cross outside Jerusalem, Jesus Christ demonstrated a love the world had never seen before. In Gospel of John 3:16, we read:

“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son…”

When Jesus said, in effect, “I LOVE YOU,” He did not mean, You will make Me happy.
He did not mean, You will fulfill Me.
He did not mean, I love you because of what I can receive from you.

He meant, I love you, even if it costs Me everything.

Human love often says, “I love you because…”
Divine love says, “I love you, period.”

Human love can be conditional sustained by feelings, performance, reciprocity.

Divine love is sacrificial sustained by grace, mercy, and unwavering commitment.

On the cross, Jesus did not love us hoping we would make Him happy. He loved us to rescue us. He loved us to restore us. He loved us to give us life. He shifted the definition of love from self-centered receiving to selfless giving.

The cross stands as the ultimate declaration:
Not words whispered in comfort,
but love proven in suffering.

Not affection expressed in romance,
but sacrifice displayed in agony.

He demonstrated the greatest love not through emotional romantic language, but through surrendering His very life. Nails, thorns, mockery, and death became the vocabulary of divine love.

Human love often asks, “What can I gain?”
God’s love asks, “What can I give?”

Human love may walk away when it becomes inconvenient.
Divine love stayed even when it meant the cross.

In a world where love is often measured by feelings and benefits, the cross reveals a different measure: sacrifice. The love of Jesus is not transactional; it is transformational. It does not depend on our worthiness but flows from His goodness.

Those three words “I LOVE YOU” were never the same again.

Because there, love was not just spoken.

It was proven.