Tough Love

Tough love is the language of saying no—even when every part of you wants to say yes.

This kind of love doesn’t feel warm or comforting in any obvious way. If anything, it can feel like we are pulling ourselves apart from the person we love instead of moving toward them.

And yet, it may be one of the deepest forms of love there is.

It’s the parent standing in the kitchen while their toddler is on the floor screaming, kicking, and crying for a full half hour because they were told they can’t have another cookie—and the parent doesn’t give in, not because they don’t care, but because they care enough to teach that life has limits.

A teenager slamming the door after being told no, shouting words they don’t mean—but the boundary still stands.

And sometimes, it’s the relative of an addict who makes the painful decision to stop rescuing, to stop covering, to stop softening the consequences—even though it may risk the relationship itself.

It’s the kind of love that puts everything on the line for the sake of the other, placing you in a deeply vulnerable and uncomfortable position.

Because instead of feeling like connection, it often feels like separation.

So why is this a language of love?

Because real love is not only about giving. It is also about holding back.

When Love Doesn’t Feel Like Love

There are moments in life where love does not feel like love at all.

A toddler being told no and left to cry through a full, exhausting tantrum doesn’t feel protected—they feel hurt, frustrated, and alone.

And the same is true in our relationship with God.

We are taught that God relates to the world through both love and strict judgment—through giving, and through holding back. Through kindness, and through limitation.

But when we are on the receiving end of that limitation, it can feel like loss, pain, and that something is being taken from us.

So it’s natural to ask: How could a kind God do this?

Rebbetzin Tziporah Heller Gottlieb captures this tension with striking honesty. She invites us to look back—not only at the pleasant parts of our lives, but at the full picture:

“Go back to your childhood… They were chosen because they have the capacity to bring you to the destiny you are meant to reach. Is it always easy? Does every child love every interaction? … Ask yourself honestly: What did I learn? Did it always feel good?”

And then she pushes the question further:

“School. Friends. Minor betrayals. Illnesses. Did they challenge you? Would you be who you are—or who you want to be—without them?”

There is something almost uncomfortable about that perspective.

Because it doesn’t explain the pain away and pretend it felt good. But it suggests that the moments that didn’t feel like love at all may have been part of a deeper form of it—a love that is shaping us, a love that asks something of us, a love that is trying to bring us somewhere, not just make us feel good along the way.

That’s what tough love looks like.

Being Godly: Living This Love

We are taught to emulate God—not only in His kindness, but also in His restraint.

And this kind of love shows up in our everyday interactions far more than we realize.

It’s in the moment you say no when you know that saying yes would be easier, like telling your child they can’t stay up later, even though you’re exhausted and it would be simpler to just give in.

It’s when you refuse to enable behavior that is harmful, even if it keeps the peace in the short term, like not covering for a spouse who keeps avoiding responsibility, or not lending money again when you know it’s feeding a destructive pattern.

It’s when you set a boundary, not out of anger, but from clarity and responsibility, like saying, I love you, but I’m not willing to be spoken to this way, and following through.

It’s choosing the discomfort now instead of the damage later.

And sometimes, we don’t even know if we’re doing it right.

This kind of love requires a quiet strength. It means being willing to be misunderstood. It means tolerating someone else’s disappointment or anger without rushing to smooth it over. It means holding the line because you care more about what is right than about being liked in the moment.

Loving Ourselves This Way

Tough love is also something we should give to ourselves.

Inside each of us is a part that wants to enjoy, to take, to consume, to relax, to escape. It whispers, Just this once. It won’t matter.

We are entrusted with a soul that we are responsible for. And caring for that soul doesn’t always look like giving it whatever it wants.

Sometimes it looks like saying no.

No, I’m not going to stay in this pattern.
No, I’m not going to give in to this impulse.
No, I’m not going to choose what is easy right now if it takes me further from who I want to be.

And that can feel harsh but it’s rooted in deep compassion for your soul’s well-being.

Sometimes the greatest act of love is not in what we give but in what we are willing to hold back, because we know ultimately that is what the other truly needs.