No Exploits for Love
By Anthony Casperson
6-14-25

If you’ve played video games for very long, you probably know one thing for certain. Even triple A games have glitches and bugs. The designers don’t intend for the odd interactions to happen, but they still do.

And while some glitches make the gameplay quite annoying, there are certain bugs that gamers love to search out. These are the ones they can exploit for their own benefit. Glitches that allow you to get infinite money, XP, or companion approval. The graphical anomalies that let you slowly phase through locked doors. Wonky physics that somehow allow you to surf through the sky on your character’s shield. And so much more.

Some gamers perform the exploits because the glitch is extremely amusing. But for the most part, a gamer uses them to make their time with the game easier. This way they don’t have to grind for the money, XP, or the highest rating with their favored companion. They don’t have to search for hours to find the key that blended in with the background. They can speedrun to areas that would otherwise be locked away for hours of gameplay.

These exploits are cheats that make the experience easier, but aren’t what the designers intended. They’re loopholes in the system that diminish the point of it all. And the player misses out on the point when they utilize the exploit.

But it’s not just games in which people seek exploits. We try to find X number of simple steps to financial freedom. Magazine covers claim to provide the secrets to an amazing relationship. And more than a few religious leaders promise a short list of actions that should empower our spiritual lives.

We want things to be as easy as we can make them. What’s the minimum amount of effort for the maximum reward? What loophole can we exploit to help us feel good about trying, without really having to lift a finger? What ridiculous sequence of events do we have to perform in order to feel spiritual?

It’s a state of mind so common that we even find it in the context for this week’s parable in our summer series, “Mysteries of the Kingdom.”

While the Parable of the Good Samaritan is well known by many, and its context is repeated by many a follower of Jesus, the pairing of the two is less well known. And they both help us understand each other better than merely looking at them individually. So, a viewing of them as a whole unit is what we’ll do.

In Luke 10:25-37, we see that the story begins with an expert in the Law of Moses asking Jesus a question. It was meant to trip him up. To find a weakness in his teaching that the religious elite could use against him.

And the question was one that philosophically-minded rabbis had debated for centuries, “What should I do to inherit eternal life?” What are the simple steps to take? What are the secrets to do? What is the sequence of actions that I should perform? Basically, what should I do to get in good with God?

When faced with this, Jesus does what many good teachers do; he asks a question back. “What’s written in the Law? How do you read it?” Since this guy was an expert in the Law, he should have understanding. He probably already had an idea. Therefore, Jesus asks the lawyer’s perspective so he could see where to correct the man.

And the lawyer answers in a way that Jesus does himself in Matthew 22 and Mark 12. “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all of your strength, and with all of your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.”

Jesus applauds the answer. It was perfect. Give your entire self to God in love, and show your neighbor the same type of love that you desire for yourself. This should be the attitude of all who inherit the Kingdom of God.

If the guy had stopped there, he could’ve understood one of the greatest mysteries of the kingdom. But verse 29 tells us what point tripped him up. And it’s one that causes us to stumble as well.

The verse says that the lawyer sought to justify himself. Instead of allowing the truth of God’s Kingdom to bring about justification in him, the man wanted to do things his way. Rather than play the game of life the way that its creator had designed, he sought an exploit.

“Who is my neighbor?”

The question sounds simple until we realize its true meaning of intent. What is the limit of this type of love? Where is the exploit that lets me perform the minimum amount of love for the maximum amount of eternal life? How can I cheat the amount of love I give, while still gaining the full amount of God’s love for me?

It’s a selfish question. One that betrays an unloving spirit. It puts on full display the heart of one who fails to understand what love truly is all about.

To this question, Jesus’ answer is a parable. A man left Jerusalem via a dangerous road. Everyone knew that thieves congregated on this winding path. But the man had no choice. It was the only road on his way home to Jericho.

Unsurprisingly, bandits descended upon him. They took everything, including his clothes. But that wasn’t enough. No, they beat him more than halfway to death. As a matter of fact, they figured that even if he wasn’t dead yet, he’d bleed out by himself soon enough. And so, they left him right on the path.

Sometime later, a priest walks by. Also on his way out of Jerusalem. Priests had a regular yearly schedule to serve at the temple. And they needed to be ritually clean in order to serve. A requirement that would prevent one from touching a dead body. But since he was leaving the city, he had already completed his time of service. The ritual purity wouldn’t be a problem. (And shouldn’t have been a problem according to Jesus’ teaching elsewhere that shows caveats in the Law were permitted if it meant saving a life.)

But regardless, the priest looked at the dying man and was concerned about his own spiritual standing so much that he crossed to the other side of the road and passed by. He justified himself. Found an exploit to proclaim his unloving action of doing nothing as good. Godly even.

A dying man finally had hope of life. Someone there to help just in time. But that hope failed him. Passed by with an air of spirituality that reeked of self-justification.

However, that wasn’t the only person to happen upon the man. After the priest came a Levite. Another spiritual leader at the temple on a yearly schedule. One who aided in aspects of worship outside of the sacrifices.

This Levite also had left Jerusalem. Also didn’t need to be concerned about ritual purity. Also should’ve helped the dying man. And also, justified himself. He also walked by on the other side of the road. Also failed to do anything for the helpless dying man.

He “also-ed” himself so much that he might as well not even be there for all that he adds to the story, except to say that the priest wasn’t some fluke of spiritual person.

With the last vestiges of life remaining in the victim of the thieves, along came a Samaritan. The crowd around Jesus as he told this story probably jeered at this character’s introduction. Turned up their noses. Spat on the ground in disgust. Samaritans were half-breeds who claimed to worship the God of Israel, but did it all wrong.

Despite the reaction of the crowd, Jesus continued with his story. The Samaritan wasn’t coming from Jerusalem. Or going toward it. Why would a Samaritan go somewhere that they’d be hated in going? But regardless, he was on the same road, travelling for some business that required him to walk on these Judean paths.

When the Samaritan saw the dying man, he had compassion. The Samaritan’s bowels felt like he had been gutted himself when he witnessed the plight of this victim near death. As much as he’d normally roll his eyes at the sight of a Jewish person, he couldn’t just leave the man lying there in the street.

So the Samaritan used his own resources, liberally applying healing ointments and alcohol to the man’s wounds. Then, after torn Samaritan clothing had been made into bandages, he hefted the wounded man onto his own beast.

The pair then headed to a small hostel that the Samaritan had probably used before. This isn’t a luxury hotel. Not even a cheap travel lodge. No, this “inn” is like the shadiest airbnb where the host also sleeps on the property. They’ll accept anyone who has the money to pay. It’s probably the only option for a foreign traveler to stay in the unwelcoming Judean countryside. And definitely not the place that the injured man would choose to stay.

After paying for the night, and tending to the wounded man, the Samaritan pays even more to the “innkeeper” and asks that the man be taken care of. And if the care requires more than he’d paid, then the Samaritan would provide for it the next time he came through.

It’s here where Jesus ends his parable and asks the lawyer who was the neighbor of the injured man? Who showed the love of God to their fellow human being? Who was justified by godly action rather than being merely self-justified?

The lawyer sighs, knowing that this answer also serves as one for his own question, and finally responds. But he can’t even say the word “Samaritan.” So, he answers that it was the one who showed the man mercy. And Jesus nods approval at the answer, saying, “Go and do likewise.”

Love doesn’t mean justifying your actions. It means acting in mercy. Giving all for the betterment of others. Even if it costs us our all.

That’s what the words “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind” mean. It cost us to love God. Every piece of ourselves. We must give up our self-justifications, our attempts to look spiritual even though we’re acting against God’s intent.

Many people who claim to follow Jesus fall for self-justification. We hate those who blatantly sin while the name of Jesus is on their lips, instead of lovingly speaking truth to them so that they learn the error of their ways. We twist the words of God to say what we want them to say, and then hate those who try to correct us. We fight and bicker and divide because of trivial disagreements, all the while belittling those who hold a different opinion.

We attempt to justify our self-righteousness by applying limits to God’s love. We cross to the other side of the road making our own loopholes of ease, instead of understanding God’s already-provided caveats. We search out exploits to get what we want without having to put in the hard work of love.

And we deafen ourselves to the gut punch of mercy, listening only to the applause of our own self-justification.

The Kingdom of God isn’t for self-justifiers. It’s for those who give everything, because everything’s already been given for them. Jesus died for us to bring us salvation. And now, in turn, we should provide goodness, hope, love, mercy, truth, and righteousness for others.

There is no exploit for love. It’s work. Hard work. Of giving everything we have. Because that’s what we’ve been given by God.

So, let’s stop trying to justify ourselves by applying limits to the reach of God’s love for others. Stop making loopholes for our own sins. And give everything we have to bring life to the dying world around us.

We know that life is found in the Kingdom of God. Not as we cross the road to keep ourselves pure, far away from the dying. But as one who gives and provides for the dying, no matter who they are.

That is the mystery revealed to us by Jesus’ words.