I love, Love. And Ah, to Love, Love.
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I love, Love.
And ah… to love, Love.
Even as I write those words, something stirs in me that is older than language.
Older than time.
Older than my own becoming.
To love, Love—
Not just the act of loving, but the posture of laying myself low at the altar of the One who is Love Himself.
“For God is Love…” (1 John 4:8)
The ache isn’t a wound—it’s a wonder.
It’s a divine pulse that beats through every fiber of who I am, who I was, and who I will be.
To love, Love… is to remember.
To love, Love… is to return.
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The First “Love” Is Me—The Second Is Him
There’s something holy in how the sentence sounds.
The first “love” is lowercase—it’s my reach, my movement, my longing.
The second “Love” is capitalized—it is His name, His being, His essence.
The first is verb.
The second is Person.
And somehow, the two become one in this mysterious divine union.
“I love because He first loved me…” (1 John 4:19)
With the feeble flame of my humanity, I dare to pursue the all-consuming fire of the Divine.
And He lets me.
More than that—He longs for me to.
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There’s a Sacred Tremble in This Kind of Loving
This isn’t transactional affection.
This isn’t safety-first, mask-on love.
This is naked, nothing-held-back, stretch-my-soul love.
It’s the kind of love that holds space for silence.
The kind that waits even when it hurts.
The kind that doesn’t demand explanation.
The kind that says, “Even if You never do another thing for me—I still love You, Love.”
It is weeping at His feet when you don’t understand.
It is joyfully dancing when there’s no music playing in the natural—but your spirit hears the melody of heaven.
It is heartbreak and holiness, intertwined.
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To Love, Love, Is to Let Yourself Be Ruined for Lesser Things
You can’t love, Love, and walk away the same.
You can’t touch eternity and still chase what fades.
When you love, Love—you are undone.
You stop performing.
You stop pretending.
You stop needing to be impressive.
Because suddenly, being known by Love Himself is more than enough.
And when you are known,
when you are seen by the One whose eyes pierce through every mask,
when you are met in the deep by the One who knit you together—
You no longer need to be “put together” for anyone else.
To love, Love, is to be satisfied in the sacred simplicity of being found.
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Love Is Not a Weakness. It Is the Original Design
Somewhere along the way, the world told us that tenderness made us vulnerable.
That softness meant weakness.
That love must be earned or protected.
But that’s not the truth of the Kingdom.
In the Kingdom, love is strength.
In the Kingdom, love is warfare.
In the Kingdom, love is identity.
“God is Love,” not just in essence, but in the embodiment of who He is.
And love, by His definition, is layered, full, fierce, and eternally patient.
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast…” (1 Corinthians 13)
There are 13 qualities of love described in 1 Corinthians 13.
And how fitting, because in Hebrew, the number 13 is the numeric value of the word ahavah (אַהֲבָה) — love.
Aleph (1) + Hey (5) + Bet (2) + Hey (5) = 13
And 13 in Hebrew also symbolizes oneness and unity (as in echad — אֶחָד).
Because to love, Love… is to become one with Him.
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I Love, Love, Even When It Hurts
Because yes, to love, Love is to risk.
It is to live open in a world that loves to close itself off.
It is to give without knowing if you’ll be received.
It is to trust when there’s no guarantee.
But there is something holy in that risk.
Because the safest place you’ll ever be is in reckless surrender to the One who is Love.
To love, Love, is to say yes to mystery.
Yes to the ache.
Yes to the not-knowing—
because you know Him.
You know His voice.
You know His whisper.
You know His eyes when He looks at you and sees all—and still calls you beautiful.
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To Love, Love, Is to Carry Fire in Clay
This kind of love marks you.
It’s not just emotional—it’s eternal.
It’s not shallow—it’s scorching.
It breaks things open.
It heals places you didn’t know were bleeding.
It calls you deeper. It says, “Come up here.”
It lifts your chin when you’re tired and says, “I’m still here.”
It whispers in the dark, “This ache is not a wound—it’s a doorway.”
To love, Love, is to burn.
But not be consumed.
Because what you’re burning with isn’t sorrow.
It’s glory.
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And So I Say Again—With My Whole Being: I Love, Love.
I love the One who called me by name.
The One who met me in the wilderness and never looked away.
The One who waits without pressure.
Who doesn’t demand perfection, but delights in presence.
Who knows that even in my silence—I’m speaking.
Who hears even when I have no words.
I love, Love.
And oh… to love, Love…
Is to live in the fire of His eyes and find home there.
To cry and laugh and ache and dream and hope and break and rebuild…
all in His arms.
To love, Love,
is to wake up every morning and choose again—
to see the world through His lens,
to speak with His tenderness,
to stay soft when it would be easier to grow callous.
To be ruined for anything that isn’t Him.
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Final Thought:
To love, Love,
is the most courageous thing you will ever do.
But it is the most worth-it thing too.
It is the essence of eternity wrapped in the fabric of now.
It is 13 things and infinitely more.
So I say it again, and again, and again:
I love, Love.
Ah… to love, Love.
Is to be free.
Is to be known.
Is to be alive.
And I wouldn’t trade it for anything- and neither should you.
———
I Hear the Spirit Say…
“Ah, beloved…
You who ache so deeply because you were designed to—
You who burn because I lit the flame in your chest—
You who feel love so fiercely that the world calls it too much—
I call it holy.
I am the One who made you with this capacity to love,
because I am the One who is Love.
And every time you say, “I love, Love,”
Heaven echoes back, “So do I.”
Do not be ashamed of how wide your heart stretches.
Do not apologize for the tears that come uninvited.
You are not fragile.
You are formed in fire.
For I have written eternity into your longing.
I have etched My name into the ache you carry.
It is not emptiness—it is invitation.
It is not loss—it is a lens.
It is how you see Me most clearly.
You love because I first loved you.
But you love Me—because you’ve seen Me.
And now, nothing else satisfies.
Let the world say what it will.
Let others misunderstand the magnitude of what you carry.
But you… you stay soft.
You keep burning.
You keep choosing Me.
And know this:
Every time you whisper, “I love, Love,”
I draw near and whisper back,
“I know. I feel it. I receive it. And I love you more.”
This is not poetry.
This is prophecy.
You were made to mirror Me.
So burn, beloved.
And let the world be warmed by the glow.
Because this Love—
this fire—
this ache—
is Me…
loving through you.”
