By Sally Jo

Memorial Day passed a few days ago, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

Not just the flags waving, the long weekend, or the burgers on the grill—but the weight of it. The reality underneath the red, white, and blue.

It’s a day that calls us to remember.

To remember men and women who didn’t just wear the uniform—but laid down their lives in it.
To remember the kind of love that runs toward danger for the sake of someone else’s safety.
To remember that freedom isn’t free—and never has been.

As I sat with those thoughts this week, a verse from Jesus echoed in my mind:

“Greater love has no one than this: that someone lay down his life for his friends.”
— John 15:13

Jesus didn’t just say that.
He lived it.

And this verse, in many ways, captured what Memorial Day stirred in me. It reminded me of the greatest love—not the soft, sentimental kind, but the kind that bleeds. The kind that dies. The kind that doesn’t flinch at the cost because the cause is worth it.

That kind of love leaves me both speechless and deeply grateful.

And here’s what else I’ve been thinking:

In our culture—and even in the Church—we often treat marriage as the pinnacle of love. The ultimate goal. The mountaintop experience. The happily-ever-after.

And listen, marriage is a beautiful thing. It reflects the covenant between Christ and the Church. It’s sacred. It matters.

But Jesus didn’t say the greatest love is found in romance.
He didn’t say the greatest love is found in marriage or sexual intimacy.
He said the greatest love is found in sacrifice.

Laying down your life.
Not for a spouse.
Not for a soulmate.
But for a friend.

It’s not passion that defines the highest form of love—it’s selflessness.
It’s not romance—it’s redemption.

That means the greatest love shows up in foxholes, not just in flower girl dresses.
It looks like a soldier covering a grenade.
A firefighter running into a burning building.
A nurse holding the hand of someone taking their last breath.
A celibate Christian quietly choosing costly obedience in a culture that doesn’t understand.
A single friend showing up again and again when no one’s watching.

Marriage is beautiful. But sacrifice is greater.

The cross proves that.
So does every tombstone etched with the name of someone who gave their life so others could live free.

That’s what Memorial Day reminded me of this year.

It reminded me that the highest love isn’t about what we can gain from someone—it’s about what we’re willing to give.
That love isn’t validated by romance, but by surrender.
And that Jesus—who laid down His life not just for friends, but for enemies—has shown us the fullest form of it.

So I’m still sitting with it.
Grieving the cost.
Grateful for the courage.
And praying I’ll have even a fraction of that kind of love.

Because that’s what Jesus called the greatest.