American journalist Derek Thompson recently wrote: “Every individual is the sum of their relationships.” This came from his Substack article “On Being a Dad,” which was his personal reflection on parenthood. In making his case for fatherhood, Thompson touched on love, life, and the quiet miracle of parenthood, arguing that our deepest identities emerge not in isolation but through the web of connections we inhabit.

Though written from a secular perspective, Thompson’s words echo with unexpected beauty — specifically when held up to the light of Scripture. If every person is, indeed, the sum of their relationships, what implications does this hold for the Christian — whose life is defined above all by two supreme commandments: to love God wholly and to love others as ourselves?

1. Love your neighbor as yourself.

Jesus identifies this as the second greatest commandment: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:39; Leviticus 19:18). This call is radical in both its simplicity and scope. It means treating others with the same care, respect, and sacrifice we naturally extend to ourselves: forgiving seventy times seven, bearing one another’s burdens, speaking truth wrapped in love, and seeking their flourishing even when it costs us dearly — even when the fallen world we live in often makes such love feel like foolishness.

This command unfolds in the ordinary and the overlooked. It’s found in a quiet word of encouragement to a weary colleague, the steadfast patience amid family friction, the open-handed generosity to the stranger in need, and the rare gift of undivided attention in a distracted age. It undergirds every human bond — within the church family and beyond it, among believers and unbelievers alike. Yet we know too well how elusive this love can be. Sin whispers self-preservation; pride hardens into resentment; the relentless pace of life squeezes out compassion. We falter before those who wound us, those whose ways perplex us, those whose needs stretch us thin.

And still, this commandment burns with eternal weight precisely because of one simple truth: relationships are formative. They change us — for better or worse, whether we realize it or not, sculpting our souls in ways we scarcely perceive until the imprint is deep. Thompson glimpses this truth, yet Scripture carries it much further: “Do not be misled: ‘Bad company corrupts good character’” (1 Corinthians 15:33). For the believer, our nearest relationships ought to be lanterns guiding us toward Christ — spouses calling forth holiness, friends provoking one another to love and good works (Hebrews 10:24), families living out the tender mercies of the gospel.

Of course, it’s crucial to state that we do not withdraw from the world. Jesus sat at the table with tax collectors and sinners, and He has summoned us to be salt and light amid the darkness (Matthew 5:13-16). Our interactions with unbelievers become opportunities to witness by demonstrating Christ’s love in tangible ways, sharing the hope of the gospel, and praying for their salvation. Often, the most powerful witness is unspoken: the steady radiance of a life quietly surrendered to Jesus, observed by eyes we never notice even as those eyes notice us. We may never know how deeply our faithfulness stirs another heart toward the Savior, making it all the more important to model Christ in every aspect of our lives and interactions with others — because, after all, in obedience to the second greatest commandment, we will be interacting with others.

We long to do so. And this longing for connection is no accident. We were fashioned for fellowship because our God is relational to His core. In the mystery of the Trinity — Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in perfect, eternal communion — God does not merely love; He is love (1 John 4:8). We, the church, are called the bride of Christ, destined for unending union with Him. And in the greatest act of love, the Father sent His only Son to the cross, that we might be restored to endlessly perfect fellowship with the divine.

So, if we are the sum of our relationships, then we must tend them with holy care. We must shield our hearts from destructive ties as we pour ourselves out in every encounter to reflect Jesus and beckon others into His embrace.

2. Love the Lord your God.

Yet the second commandment certainly doesn’t stand alone. No, it flows from the first and greatest: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength” (Mark 12:30; Deuteronomy 6:5). This is no measured devotion, no compartment of life reserved for God. It is everything — total, unreserved, consuming. To love Him so is to worship Him as the center of all existence, to obey His voice with joy, to pursue His presence as our highest delight, and to align every thought, desire, and deed beneath His lordship.

For the Christian, this relationship with God through Christ is the axis around which our entire being turns. When we abide in Him as branches abide in the vine, drawing life from His very sap (John 15:5), then identity, purpose, and power cascade from this one fountainhead. We are beloved children, forgiven sinners, adopted heirs. Our calling is to glorify Him. Our sufficiency is His Spirit within us. And remarkably, when this vertical relationship is healthy, it transforms all our horizontal ones.

“We love because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19). A heart captivated by God’s love overflows in love for others (1 John 4:19). A mind renewed by Scripture discerns how to relate wisely. A soul anchored in Christ’s sufficiency finds security that frees us from idolatry in human relationships. When we love God supremely, we become better spouses, parents, friends, and neighbors — simply because everyone around us benefits from a life oriented toward the Source of all goodness.

Take a moment to picture it: when our eyes are fixed on the radiant face of Christ, His glory reflects from us like sunlight off still water — dazzling, healing, irresistible. In that blinding magnificence, others glimpse not our efforts but His beauty piercing through.

3. Strive for rightly ordered relationships.

Thompson’s insight ultimately beckons us to ask ourselves: Who — or what — truly comprises the sum of who we are? If every soul is the accumulation of its relationships, let the Christian’s truest answer be this: above all, we are the sum of our relationship with our Savior.

Far from diminishing earthly bonds, this centering elevates them to their purest glory. When Christ occupies the throne of our hearts, every other connection assumes its proper place and purpose. Friendships deepen into echoes of gospel communion. Marriages become living parables of Christ’s sacrificial love for His bride. Parenting reflects the Father’s patient, pursuing tenderness. Even the thorniest relationships transform into crucibles of grace, where forgiveness is practiced and growth is forged.

What blossoms is a life of luminous beauty, one where love for God fuels love for others, where earthly ties are strengthened rather than strained by the ultimate bond, and where we are continually shaped into the image of Jesus through the relationships He sovereignly places in our lives.

May our deepest, most defining relationship be with the One who loved us first — who gave Himself for us so that we might live for Him. In that relationship, we find our truest self: not the sum of fleeting human ties alone, but a redeemed whole, anchored eternally in our Savior. And in Him, every other relationship is gathered up, ordered, and made radiant — reflecting the perfect love that has claimed us as His own.