Heavenly Father, quiet my heart before You. Let what is true remain, and let what is not of You fall away. Search me, cleanse me, and teach me how to carry truth without losing tenderness, and Love without losing my soul again. In Jesus’ Name, amen.
If we are completely honest, we ask this question over and over again, but I’ve learned that I was not asking the one who truly knows. I failed to ask my soul if this is one?
Once the soul has seen evil, it cannot unsee it. It is one of the hardest realities a soul can face. To witness what is dark, cruel, and lovelessness changes a person in the most incomprehensible ways; Jesus said, “I have come to give you life, choose life or death.
I didn’t know what Love was, nor did I understand the true meaning of life outside of dysfunction. I unconsciously chose death. How would one choose if they don’t know the difference unless they have truly tasted both? “
“The Bible says, ‘Taste and see that the LORD is good.” Unless we have tasted the goodness of God, how could we know?
Love is life, and lovelessness is death. Sadly, the soul longs for before physical death because it has not tasted the goodness of God in the physical sense. So the soul without affection begins to die. Just as the body needs nourishment, the soul also needs to be fed with healthy Love and affection. Sadly, many children are deprived of such Love. How can one give what one never had? They have never experienced true Love; only scraps.
On the other side of that knowing, Love still whispers—tenderly, faithfully, and true. And once you have encountered real Love, you can no longer settle for anything less. I understand now why Peter said, “Lord, to whom shall we go; You have the words to eternal life” John 6:68. Many left because the teachings were difficult. We have all done this, too; no judgment here.
Deep calls to deep.
The Love of God is planted like a living seed deep in the soil of a broken heart, and it does not die there. It takes root. It grows in hidden places, like the formation of a child in his mother’s womb, the Love of God heals wounds we even forgot, such as childhood wounds.
I once became so giddy that I thought I was losing my mind. I read somewhere that that was part of the healing. The Part of me that was healed and set free danced like a child, and another part that felt the Love again. A holy consummation. Like Carl Jung’s Anima and Animus rejoining as one. Like a dream, or like Homer’s Odyssey, when King Odysseus finally makes it home to Penelope; that wonderful feeling of unity.
What was watered by tears begins, in time, to bear lasting fruit. I admit that before the death of my son, my heart was hardened; the broken heart that yields itself to God does not remain barren. It becomes a garden where mercy grows, where discernment deepens, and where holy Love learns to stay. Not just in intimate relationships, but in family, and community as well; wherever God is, Love is, because God is Love. Love is deeper than the mind can fathom or explain its depths. Paul tried to sum it up in Ephesians 3, but even so, who can measure the Love of God except by the cross of Christ, His Son, the price He paid, no one can truly put into words, no one.
The Seal of Honor: Sealed by Love
Evil may mark the memory, but it does not have the final word. Love does. Not shallow love, not counterfeit comfort, but the kind of Love that meets us in truth and still stays. The kind that does not flatter darkness, but overcomes it with light. Once that Love has been known, the soul begins to hunger for what is eternal, clean, and whole. As I healed, I wondered why my mind was accepting counterfeit Love, but the soul refused to make peace with what destroys it, and I heard the echo of the Spirit, “A house divided will not stand; nor can a heart divided be at peace.”
I have experienced God’s Love through another and have tried to let go. I wrestled with thoughts of release, yet as I read Romans 8 and remembered the Love of God extended through human tenderness, my heart knew it could not accept anything less. Once the soul has tasted the goodness of God, it cannot willingly return to what starves it. It remembers both the peace and the pain, and because it remembers, it cannot go back. While at church with my grandchildren, during worship, I was suddenly overcome with joy. It felt like a holy alignment—as though heaven quietly whispered to my heart, I have not forgotten My promises to you.
When God’s promises meet the soul in worship, joy becomes a witness that heaven has not forgotten.
A quiet prayer of repentance and renewal
Lord Jesus, forgive me for the times I have questioned what Your Love taught my soul to recognize. Forgive me for trying to make peace with what does not agree with Your goodness. Thank You for every holy reminder that You have not forgotten Your promises. Keep my heart aligned with what is true. Let me release fear, release striving, and release every counterfeit, but never release the witness of Your Love. Nourish what You have awakened in me, and let joy remain as a sign of Your faithfulness. In Jesus’ Name, amen.