In the early years of ministry, it’s easy to feel utterly dependent on God, acutely aware that only He can work through our weakness. But as years pass, something subtle yet powerful often happens. Growing confidence, increasing experience, and the busyness of ministry life can quietly shift our focus—from clinging to God Himself, to depending on our competence, routines, and structures instead.
That’s not just a ministry problem. It’s a human one. We instinctively assume that time deepens love, strengthens devotion, and fosters a greater spiritual bond. But life, training, experience, and even success can erode the very thing we thought would only grow over time. And Scripture gives us a stark warning against that possibility.

The Ephesus Case Study: Love Lost Over Time
The book of Acts introduces us to the church in Ephesus as a community wholly gripped by God. In Acts 19-20, we see believers so passionately in love with Jesus that they publicly burned their books of occult practice—a dramatic testimony to their captivated hearts. Their zeal was unmistakable across Asia Minor.
Later, as Paul writes to the Ephesians, his tone shifts from celebration to concern. He prays that they might know Christ’s love more deeply and experience the fullness of spiritual understanding.
Then comes the most haunting moment. Decades later, John records Christ’s words to the church in Revelation 2:4: “But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first.”
Here we see something profound: a church that grew in strength, discernment, endurance, and theological clarity, yet lost the very love that once ignited its passion for Jesus.
Maturity Without Love Is Not Maturity
What might this look like in real life? Consider marriages that begin with an overwhelming affection and gradually settle into routine companionship. Over time, busyness, roles, and responsibilities compete for the attention once reserved for one another. Devotion becomes duty, a raised pulse at the presence of another gives way to rhythms of everyday life and routine, and fascination becomes familiarity.
Our relationship with Jesus can suffer similarly. We may grow in knowledge, resilience, and spiritual discipline, but when love for Him cools, we risk becoming proficient yet distant.
The church in Ephesus was strong, respected, and doctrinally sound. Yet, to Jesus, their primary failure was not moral collapse or theological heresy—it was lovelessness. They were enduring, but they had lost their first love.
Jesus does not dismiss their strengths. Instead, He calls them back to the heart of what really matters: zealous affection for Him.
First Love Matters More Than Performance
This challenge isn’t just for the early church; it’s timeless. I need it myself. You probably do too. The danger to our spiritual life isn’t only blatant sin or obvious failure—it’s the slow drift of the heart. Even good things can become idols when they push Christ from the centre of our affections.
This is why Paul repeatedly urges believers to walk in love—not merely to act lovingly, but to be motivated by love that mirrors Christ’s own. It’s why he prays that believers might know the breadth and depth of Christ’s love—not so they can tick a doctrinal box, but so their hearts might be captured all over again.
The church in Ephesus had everything Christians often aspire to: discernment, perseverance, doctrine, and ministry strength. But what they lost was the source of all those gifts: Christ’s love in the affections of their hearts.
Jesus’ response to them is equally personal and relational. Following His rebuke, He doesn’t suggest better practices or routines. He extends an invitation: “Repent and return to the love you had at first.”
This call to repentance isn’t about moral failure alone; it’s a call to reawaken our hearts.
What Does It Look Like to Guard the First Love?
Guarding our first love for Christ isn’t about lingering in a past emotional experience. It’s about cultivating a present and growing affection that shapes our identity, decisions, and purpose. Here are a few markers of that heart posture:
Dependence, not self-reliance: Celebrating grace more than competence.
Vulnerability, not performance: Transparent before God rather than projecting spiritual success.
Affection over achievement: Loving Jesus for who He is, not for what He enables us to do.
Stillness in busyness: Choosing moments of quiet devotion over frantic productivity.
We tend to assume that maturity means emotional steadiness—but sometimes steadiness is just numbness. Jesus desires more than endurance; He desires a deep, tender affection that fuels all other virtues.
A Personal and Eternal Invitation
When we reflect on the Ephesian example, we see a mirror for our souls. Losing our first love isn’t always dramatic. It can happen slowly, in incremental shifts: devotion to Jesus becomes devotion to our own agendas, ministry output, or spiritual achievements.
Yet the invitation remains: return to Christ, cultivate love, and never lose what matters most. Like a spouse longing for closeness, Jesus waits not for our perfection—but for our affection.
Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians isn’t merely theological; it’s relational. And Jesus’ call to repentance isn’t about regret; it’s about renewal.
So today, pause for a moment with the question: Am I more committed to the routines of following Jesus—or to Jesus Himself?
Guarding your first love isn’t about going back to square one. It’s about moving forward with your heart fully surrendered to Him.
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