Fall in Love with God

Fall in Love with God

I’m not sure when it happened—when I first began to believe in something greater than myself. The moment is blurred, but the feeling is clear: an undeniable awareness of His presence. To try and capture it in words almost diminishes the miracle of it all.

Divine intervention met divine intention—the day I fell in love with what cannot be seen. A belief in the incomprehensible. And not just any love, but Agape—the highest form of love, pure and unconditional.

The essence of our creation is itself a miracle, a whisper of wonders still to come. Our existence was a deliberate choice by Him, a sacred calling granted to few.

And in this realization, I asked: Why me? What do I owe the Creator of all things?

My only debt… is love. Full, unreserved love.

So I ask you: What love is this? That we are chosen, cherished, and called?

Today, remember this:
You are loved.
For who you are.
And to whom you belong.

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.” — Matthew 22:37

Faith in the Darkness

Faith in the Darkness

In the midst of struggle and the turmoil of our minds, a whisper rises from the darkness:

“Take My hand.”

But we see nothing.

Again, the whisper calls:

“Take My hand.”

Still, only blackness lies before us.

Yet the voice draws closer, gentle and full of love:

“Take My hand, My child.”

In blind faith, we reach out—and something meets our grasp.

We feel presence, though our eyes see nothing.

This is faith: not something seen, but something deeply known.

It is belief.

It is longing.

It is hope.

In times of trouble—whether our own or others’, whether known or unknown—we may not see the light.

But faith is the way forward.

Not sight, not certainty, but trust.

Trust that even in darkness, God is near.

Faith carries us when the path disappears, and reminds us:

We are never alone.

— 2 Corinthians 5:7

“For we walk by faith, not by sight.”

— Isaiah 42:16

“I will lead the blind by ways they have not known,

along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;

I will turn the darkness into light before them

and make the rough places smooth.”

What is the price of peace?

What is the price of peace?

We spend our lives chasing it, believing peace is something to be gained—always just out of reach. We convince ourselves that happiness will come with the next possession, the next achievement, or when life finally aligns with our expectations.

But this is the great illusion.

The ego feeds on an insatiable hunger for more. It whispers that fulfillment is one step away, yet its thirst can never be quenched. The devil delights in this endless pursuit, keeping hearts restless and souls distracted.

In truth, peace was never something to acquire. It is found not in what we gather, but in what we surrender.

So, what is the real price of peace?

Ironically, it costs nothing—yet it requires everything. Peace is freely given to those who turn inward, who recognize the immeasurable wealth of their own soul. It is better to wear rags with a full heart than to be draped in riches with an empty soul.

Jesus said it plainly in Matthew 6:26 (NIV):

“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?”

If God provides for the birds, how much more will He provide for you?

Peace isn’t earned through striving—it’s received through trusting. When we rest in God’s presence, the noise of the ego quiets, and the heart finds its true home.

From Slavery to the Unknown

From Slavery to the Unknown

“Then the Lord said, ‘I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering. So I have come down to rescue them…’” — Exodus 3:7-8 (NIV)

The story of the Israelites’ exodus from Egypt is more than ancient history—it’s the story of every soul yearning to be free. Egypt, in the biblical sense, symbolizes bondage: the slavery of sin, the chains of destructive patterns, the heavy yoke of a life disconnected from God.

Sin enslaves subtly. What begins as a comfort, a habit, or a desire, becomes a taskmaster. Like Pharaoh, it demands more while giving less. The soul becomes weary, yet the world offers no true rest. Many choose to stay in Egypt because it’s familiar, even if it’s miserable. At least in Egypt, you know what to expect.

But God calls us out—out of Egypt, out of sin, into the unknown.

The desert represents that unknown. It’s a place where the old comforts are gone, but the Promised Land is still far ahead. In our spiritual lives, this is the wilderness of early recovery, repentance, and transformation. It’s unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and frightening. The old life calls back, whispering lies of security.

Yet, the desert is also the meeting place with God.

In the wilderness, the Israelites received manna from heaven, learned to trust God’s provision, and encountered His presence on Mount Sinai. Likewise, when we step out in faith—leaving sin behind—we find that God meets us in the emptiness. Stripped of illusions, we begin to experience true freedom: a dependence not on ourselves, but on the One who rescues.

This journey is not instant. The wilderness walk is hard. There are doubts, fears, and moments of weakness. But every step taken in faith is a step upward, striving toward God. We move from slavery to sonship, from bondage to belovedness.

The unknown is not to be feared. It is the sacred space where God reshapes us.

Reflection:

• What “Egypt” is God calling you to leave behind?

• Are you clinging to familiar chains out of fear of the unknown?

• How is God using your wilderness season to draw you closer to Him?

More God Less You

"Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity." — Ecclesiastes 1:2 (ESV)

The closer I get to God, the less it becomes about me.

How much of our lives have been spent trying to earn the attention and approval of others? Whether it's in how we dress, how we speak, or how we present ourselves online, so often it's a pursuit rooted in ego. We chase compliments, validation, and admiration—all in the name of self-image.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t take care of ourselves or present our best. But if the motivation is to be seen, praised, or envied—then we’ve missed the point.

One way I’ve learned to appreciate myself in a healthy, grounded way is by seeing myself through God's eyes. Is this about me, or is this about Him? Who truly loves me more—this ever-changing world, or the unchanging love of God?

When you seek the Kingdom of God first and always, something shifts. You realize your confidence doesn’t need to be built on looks, status, or applause. True confidence comes from alignment with Him. And in that alignment, you’re finally free from vanity.

Service is Love In Action

Service is one of the most powerful ways we tell God we love Him. What better way to express our love than through selflessly serving others? When we put others before ourselves, we embody the highest form of love—one that is noble, commendable, and full of grace.

Our time in this world is brief. Everything we experience—our thoughts, emotions, and even our physical presence—is fleeting. In this fragile human existence, we are called to lift one another up, to extend a hand, and to reflect the presence of God in every act of kindness.

Whether through small gestures of compassion or greater acts of generosity and service, we keep God's spirit alive within us. Let us not live for ourselves alone, but for the betterment of all. Let us recognize both the temporary nature of our humanity and the eternal nature of our soul.

“But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”
—Matthew 19:30 (NIV)

Show God you love Him—by loving others well.

We are not who we think we are

"We are not who we think we are. We are not what others think we are. We are what we think others think we are." — Charles Horton Cooley

How much of our time is spent consumed by the opinions of others? There isn’t a soul among us who hasn’t questioned their place in the eyes of the world. This kind of mental rumination quietly chips away at our self-esteem. We start adjusting our personality, our behavior—sometimes even our core values—not for growth, but to meet perceived expectations. In doing so, we trade authenticity for approval, and peace for performance.

But who, truly, are we called to impress more than God Himself?

Before the Lord, we stand not as our titles, reputations, or achievements—but as our true selves. In His eyes, we are already complete, already enough, already loved. It is in these moments of inner conflict, of identity crisis, that we must return to God. Because God doesn’t care about worldly status, wealth, or the fragile ego—that ever-changing image we construct to be accepted.

"For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ." — Galatians 1:10 (ESV)

Find gratitude in who you are, what you’ve been given, and let that be enough. Self-doubt in the world is often a sign of weakened faith. And the answer isn’t in reshaping yourself for others—it’s in reconnecting through prayer and remembering who created you.

“Waking from the Dream”

"For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God." – Colossians 3:3

There is a moment on the path of spiritual awakening when the veil lifts—when the self we’ve known, the voice that narrates our days, is seen for what it is: an echo, a ghost, a dream. That voice—the ego—is not who we are. It is the mask we put on to survive the world. It feeds on fear, comparison, and control. It says, “I am what I do. I am what I own. I am what others think of me.” But none of that is true. And deep down, you know it.

This world, this play of forms, seems so real. We wake up, go to work, plan our futures, cling to identities, defend our opinions, and mourn what we lose. But the more we search for peace in this illusion, the more we suffer. That is because peace cannot exist where the ego reigns. The ego is noise. But the soul—your true self—is silence, presence, and eternity.

Jesus told us to die to ourselves. Not in death of the body, but death to illusion. When we "die" to the ego—its demands, its anxieties, its performances—we awaken to the indwelling presence of God. This is the soul’s reality. It is not fragile. It is not afraid. It is not in lack. It is not bound by time or story. It simply is.

You are not your past. You are not your trauma. You are not your achievements or failures. You are the awareness behind them all—the eternal watcher behind the thoughts, the spaciousness in which the storms of life appear and pass. You are the child of God, hidden in Christ, made of light and love.

This human life is a sacred dream—but a dream nonetheless. The pain, the joy, the striving, the identity—it all flickers and fades. But your soul? It remains. When you sit in silence, even for a breath, you feel it. That quiet stillness, that infinite now, is more real than anything this world can offer. That is the Kingdom within.

Prayer:

Lord, wake me from the dream of self. Let me see the ego not as an enemy, but as a veil to be gently lifted. Reveal the truth of who I am in You—beyond name, beyond fear, beyond time. Help me dwell in the awareness of my soul, and to live from that eternal center with grace, peace, and compassion. Amen.