In the beginning, before time had words to describe its sequence, there was God and he loved. Not only did he love, but he was the essence of what we call love. That love looked like the heart of a fire, ever burning and never exhausting. It sought to be poured out into a substance. So, he made an image of himself and he called it you.
You were not merely an image of the creator's love, but you were his love breathed into life. He fashioned every facet of your being. He put inside of you a tiny piece of the same love-fire that existed in the core of his being and he called it passion. As you grew he delighted in watching you use your passion to discover him and to seek out the depths of his heart for you, even when your heart grew cold.
Adam and Eve were the first to experience the love-fire of the Father. They lived in it and breathed it. They saw it manifest not only in their own souls but in the place of beauty that flourished around them: a garden filled with delicate flowers, and strong tree trunks, and solid rocks, and pliable soils, and rich green grasses, and crystal clear waters that flowed so deeply. They knew that not only did the Father want to share his passionate love-fire, but his manifest glory as well. They dwelt as royalty in the glory of the Father and delighted in his presence with every encounter. There was never a day when they did not taste, touch, smell, hear and see the glory of the Father. Because of their love for him, they were jealous for his time, his love and affection, and He, theirs.
My prayer over you this morning is that the love-fire that the Father created to burn like embers in your soul would never grow tired. Ask him, and he will fan those embers into flames. Flames that will warm the places in your heart that have rejected him cold. Flames that will illuminate your spirit to the word breathed into life over you. Flames that will rescue you again from the darkness. Flames that will find you. Flames that will keep you. Flames that will wisp and pop as the kindling in your heart moves to make room for the breath of the Father who continues to whisper,
I love you.
I have you.
You are in peace.