I didn't want to owe anyone anything – because I wanted to stay free

In the past, it was hard for me to thank people for things I never asked for. Especially when I felt like they expected something in return.

Not because I couldn't accept anything. I could.

But especially when it came from people who loved me, it sometimes felt like someone was putting something into my hand that I never asked for—and secretly attaching a string to it.

Like: "I did this for you, so now you should appreciate me." "I gave you this, so now you should stay." "Look at everything I do for you."

And something inside me fought hard against that.

Because I always thought: If you decide to do something for someone, you do it because YOU decided to do it.

You can't hand someone an invisible bill later for something they never ordered.

And honestly, I still believe there is a lot of truth in that.

Love that gives to control, secure, buy, or hold on to someone is not giving freely.

But I think I had become so sensitive to these strings that sometimes I could not even see the love behind them anymore. Also, I couldn't really explain why I felt this way or how that could change.

And then I met Jesus.

Which was almost funny, because suddenly I was faced with the biggest thing anyone had ever done for me—and I had not asked for it.

I had not asked Him to die for me. I had not asked Him to carry my sin. I had not asked God to love me first.

And yet He did it. And at first, it was incredibly hard for me to understand even that. Actually, I fought against it.

Because a part of me thought: What the f*?

So you want to tell me that someone did something for me (like... die?!), which I never asked Him to do—and now I should be thankful forever and see that as proof of love?

I am supposed to worship Him? Give Him my life? Tell Him how great He is?

Do you really think I didn't think about that?

To me, it almost sounded like the biggest sales pitch in human history. And I really hated sales pitches, especially when it came to "gurus" or products from gurus.

"Someone gave His life for YOU. You didn't ask for it. But now you should be endlessly thankful."

And everything inside me cried out: Wait a minute.😂

I had never been someone who idolized other people anyway.

I never had a guru. I never really had stars I looked up to. I never had that one role model I wanted to be like.

The whole idea of really putting another person on a pedestal had always felt strange to me.

And then along comes this Jesus, and people basically tell me: No, no. THIS one is different.

And at first, all I thought was: Goodness, this is so weird. 😂

If anything, it triggered the exact same reaction I was already struggling with anyway.

Someone did something for me without asking me—and now I am supposed to respond with gratitude, loyalty, and love?

No, thank you.

Until I slowly began to understand: Nobody was trying to sell themselves to me here. Jesus did not want to buy me. The cross was not a bill. Grace was not God saying: “Look what I did for you. Now you owe me something.” There was not a single condition attached to it.

It was the exact opposite of what I was afraid of.

Love, simply given as a gift. With patience & without pressure.

And that is one of the reasons why I spent so much time trying to understand Christianity.

I was looking for the hidden bill. And there was none. There was simply a gift. And I was free to decide whether I wanted to follow him or not. (“Another clever sales trick. I’m not stupid,” I thought.) But if even the greatest and purest act of love felt like a sales strategy to me … what on earth could ever feel real to me again?

Maybe it was not the Creator’s fault at all. Maybe it was the fallen world that had made me so suspicious of everything.

And somehow, understanding his love also began to change the way I looked at love from other people.

Today, I can literally cry when someone does something nice for me without me asking for it. I can accept it. I can appreciate it. I can say thank you.

Without feeling bought. And without immediately asking myself how I can give something back.

Because I think what was really hard for me for a long time was not giving or taking.

It was giving and taking without a clearly defined exchange.

Transactions felt safe to me.

I give you something, you pay me. You give me something, I pay you.

There is a receipt. The exchange is finished. After that, nobody owes anything to anyone. No pressure quietly building up inside me over time.

Clean. Clear. Free.

But when there was no visible exchange, I often preferred not to give anything at all—and not to accept anything.

Because if there was no receipt, how could I know that an invisible bill would not arrive later? I mean, I already knew how that went.

Gratitude. Loyalty. Closeness. Reciprocity. Staying.

I never wanted relationships to turn into a system of invisible debts.

And honestly, I had seen enough of those invisible debts.

I had listened to people talk about all the things they had done for someone – how much they had given, how often they had been there, how much they had sacrificed – and how little they received in return.

And in the past, that always frustrated me so much.

Because somewhere inside, I always thought: "But you CHOSE to give it!"

If you already knew what you expected in return, why didn't you make this trade clear from the beginning?

Why call something a gift and then suffer for months because the other person didn't pay your personal bill—a bill they didn't even know existed?

I couldn't listen to it anymore.

To me, it felt like giving something away freely, and then standing next to the empty box and saying: "Look at what they took from me." But that is life. Sometimes we just stand next to an empty box.

And sometimes it felt like playing the victim, which I did not want to do at any cost.

Because I knew: If I give, I want to give freely.

I don't want to keep a secret record and then become bitter because things don't add up.

And I think seeing this all around me made me close my hands even tighter.

Because if giving can end like that—then I would rather give nothing at all.

And I would rather not accept anything either.

No hidden expectations. No resentment. No emotional bookkeeping.

Just freedom.

And then Jesus showed me a third category.

Not a deal: "I give, you pay back."

Not a hidden deal: "I call it a gift, but I secretly expect something in return."

Instead, grace: "I give because I love."

Period.

And maybe that is one of the most important things he keeps reassuring me: Not everything has to be a trade.

Some things you can simply give. Some things you can simply receive. And gratitude does not turn a gift into a debt.

"We love because he first loved us." — 1 John 4:19

But there was another side to it.

Because while I was afraid of accepting something that came with an invisible bill, I was just as afraid of giving something that simply disappeared without being seen.

Not because I needed something back from that same person.

But because I was afraid that they might never understand what it actually cost me.

Something that feels small to one person can be incredibly costly to another.

An hour of time. A conversation. Making space for someone. Giving strength when you barely have any yourself. Being there when you would really rather pull back.

And what if I gave something that felt huge to me—and looked like nothing at all to the other person?

At the same time, I never wanted to become the exact kind of person I could hardly listen to anymore.

Someone who gives— and then talks about how nobody appreciates everything they do.

I never wanted to say: "Do you even know how much I did for you?" "Do you know what that cost me?" "Why don't you appreciate me more?"

Because deep down, I always knew: When I give, I want to give freely. I do not want my gift to become the exact invisible bill that I was so afraid of myself.

So there was this strange conflict inside me.

I wanted to give freely— but secretly, I was still afraid of giving something precious and watching it disappear unseen.

And because I did not want to demand appreciation afterwards, the safest solution sometimes seemed to be: Give less. Keep it to myself. Protect my time. Protect my energy.

And then Jesus changed that too.

Because I understood: God sees it.

And he does not only see WHAT I give. He knows what it costs me.

He knows that the same gift can cost two people completely different amounts.

He knows when it is easy for me to give an hour—and when that same hour costs me a lot.

He knows when I give out of plenty— and when I give something I barely have myself.

Like the widow with her two small coins. Others saw two coins. Jesus saw what it cost her.

And that changed something inside me.

Because now, no one needs to fully understand how much my giving was worth for it to be seen.

I do not have to explain what it cost me. I do not have to make anyone appreciate it properly. I do not have to subtly remind anyone of it later.

And I do not have to stop giving just to protect myself from being overlooked.

I can simply give. Completely freely.

And strangely, ever since I understood this, I want to give more than ever before.

My time. My attention. My space. My wisdom. My energy. My resources. A gift. A prayer. A few words that someone needs right now. Even when it costs me something.

Not endlessly. Not without boundaries.

I still need time for myself. I still need rest. I still need to recharge. And I cannot give to everyone.

But wherever I truly have something to give—I want to give it.

Because even if no person on earth ever understands what something cost me: One does.

In the past, I trusted receipts because they clearly showed what we owed each other.

Now I am learning that some of the most beautiful things in life come without any receipt at all. And that there are people out there who live in this exact way.

No invisible bill. No open balance that needs to be settled. No one buying anyone.

Just open hands.

Receiving what is freely given. Giving what I can give freely.

And trusting that nothing given from the heart ever truly goes unseen.

Maybe I never had to close my hands to stay free. I only needed to know whose eyes rest on them.🤍 And maybe you feel the same way.:)

Lena

(P.S.: These thoughts were put into words with the help of ChatGPT. It is 1:42 at night, I just had to get this out of my head right away, and I could only say it out loud – so I let ChatGPT help me turn my thoughts into a connected essay. The next one will probably be completely different again. :))