Hate Your Family?

Some of the best memories come from family. Hanging out with your favorite cousins, hugging that aunt with the glamorous life and the coolest car. Staying at Grandma’s, with the warm scent of her banana bread curling through the house was something special. It was a feeling so solid it was home. You thought it would always be like that.

But then you grew up. Had your own family. Tried to create new memories, the kind you grew up with. Except suddenly, you started to understand the cracks—the simmering fights over holidays, the distant relatives who always kept away. You never saw it then, but now it’s clear. You figured it’d be different with your own kids. You’d be the best parent. You’d fix what was broken.

Then you got saved.

That’s when everything changed. There’s this line—fine, invisible. You can’t see it, but the second you step over it, it changes the rules of the game. Like crossing a border, you never knew was there. Suddenly, you’re in a different country altogether. The culture, the laws—everything has shifted. It’s what happens when you move from this world into the Kingdom of God.

Family? The people you’ve loved your whole life. Now, they’re on the other side of that line. Jesus doesn’t mince words here: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26). It sounds harsh, but it’s not about hating them in the way the world knows hate. It’s about allegiance. It’s about how small everything else looks when you truly see the Kingdom. The things that mattered—family, history, even your own identity—they all become secondary to this new King, you’ve pledged yourself to.

“Lose your life,” Jesus said.

Stepping into the Kingdom of God is not a half-hearted move. It’s burning the ships. No going back. Like the man who found a treasure in a field and sold everything—literally everything—to buy that land (Matthew 13:44). That’s what it takes. You leave the world behind, the people who knew you, even the ones who loved you. You trade it all for the promise of something greater. “Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 10:39).

You can't go back. Not when you’ve stepped over that line. Even if it means leaving behind your childhood memories, the sweet-smelling kitchen at Grandma’s, the laughter of cousins and aunts. They’ll wonder what happened to you. They’ll call you a stranger. Maybe they’ll miss the “old you.” Or maybe they’ll ridicule you. “Look at what you’ve become—what a waste.”

But that’s the point, isn’t it? You gave up that life for a new one. And the world won’t understand. They never do. Jesus said it himself—“No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the Kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62). You can’t look back. You’ve crossed the line, into something unshakable, something eternal.

The enemy is subtle. He uses the familiar voices of the people you love to whisper doubts into your ear. “You’re not who you used to be. You’ve lost yourself.” But the truth is, in this new Kingdom, you’ve finally found yourself. You’re living for the King. The only One who offers eternal life, healing, peace—and no one else in the world can offer that.

So, when the pressure comes, when the voices from your old life rise up and try to pull you back, just remember: you’re in a Kingdom where “every knee will bow and every tongue will confess” that Jesus, your Savior, is Lord (Philippians 2:10-11). And that’s worth everything.

Stay rooted. Keep your eyes forward. You’re living for a King who has given your life beyond anything this world can offer.