Divine Affection: The Holiness of God’s Love

I don’t even know how to begin, except to say thank You. Thank You God for Your love.

Thank You God that Your love is not like human love—fleeting, conditional, broken—but that it is holy, steadfast, unshakable, and pure. I’ve been meditating all day on Isaiah 54:10:

“The mountains and the hills may crumble, but My love for you will never end…so says the LORD who loves you.” — Isaiah 54:10 (GNT)

That verse has wrapped around my heart like a blanket. Honestly, I needed it today. I’ve been feeling really stretched in some areas of my life—spiritually, emotionally, and even physically—and I found myself questioning some things. Not questioning You, Lord, but questioning if I’m walking right, if I’m missing something. Sometimes I wonder why things are so hard when I’m trying so hard to follow You.

But You reminded me today that Your love is holy love.

It’s not the kind of love that always feels soft or comfortable. Sometimes it burns. Sometimes it breaks before it builds. Sometimes it wounds before it heals. I’m slowly realizing that holy love doesn’t just comfort—it corrects. It doesn’t just protect—it purifies.

And I guess that’s what You’ve been doing in me lately: purifying. You’re removing idols I didn’t know I had. You’re calling out insecurities that I’ve buried under productivity. You’re showing me that surrender isn’t a one-time prayer but a daily sacrifice. And through all of it, I can feel Your holy love—strong, fierce, yet full of mercy.

“As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.” — Psalm 103:13-14 (NIV)

I love that verse so much. I cried when I read it earlier. Sometimes I think I have to be strong for You, like I need to show You how committed I am by pushing through on my own. But You know I’m dust. You’re not asking me to be strong—you’re asking me to be surrendered.

Even when You allow trials—especially when You do—You’re not being cruel. You’re being holy. Your love doesn’t overlook the cancer of sin in me. You fight it, even when I cling to it. And it hurts, Lord. It hurts when You pull things away that I once found identity or comfort in. But I trust You. I trust that Your discipline is not punishment—it’s love.

“The Lord disciplines those he loves, and he punishes everyone he accepts as his child.” — Hebrews 12:6 (NLT)

I read that and I just paused. I looked at my life and said, “Wow, God—you really must love me.” Because You haven’t let me go. Even when I drift. Even when I numb myself with distractions or withdraw because I’m tired. You keep pursuing me. And You keep pruning me.

I heard a sermon the other day that said: “Love that doesn’t confront sin isn’t love—it’s tolerance.” And I know now that You don’t tolerate me, You treasure me. And that’s why You won’t let sin take root in me. You are holy, and Your love is holy too. You love me too much to let me be less than who You created me to be.

And I’m beginning to see that trials are not punishment—they’re invitations. Invitations into deeper trust, deeper dependency, deeper intimacy with You.

“Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men.” — Lamentations 3:32-33 (NIV)

That verse undoes me. You don’t delight in my pain. You’re not standing far off watching me struggle. You’re here. You’re near. You suffer with me. You are Emmanuel, God with me, even in the storm. Maybe especially in the storm.

It’s in the furnace that You refine. It’s in the fire that You reveal. It’s in the crushing that You produce oil. And I don’t want to resist the process anymore. I want to embrace it—even if I don’t understand it fully—because I know You. And I trust Your heart more than I fear the heat.

“The Lord binds up the bruises of his people and heals the wounds he inflicted.” — Isaiah 30:26 (NIV)

That is such a strange verse when I first think about it—You inflict wounds, yet You are also the one who heals them. But I get it now. You’re not causing pain for pain’s sake. You’re a surgeon, not a sadist. You wound to remove infection. You break to reset what was broken in the wrong way. You crush to restore.

Your love is fierce, Father. But it is good. It is not reckless—it is righteous. It is not wild—it is wise. It is not passive—it is powerful. It doesn’t leave me as I am, and for that, I am forever grateful.

I used to want a love that just made me feel safe. Now, I want a love that makes me holy.

“Real love seeks the well-being of the loved one. It warns to prevent more harm. It disciplines to create more growth.”

That’s You. That’s what You’ve been doing all along. And even though it’s been hard, I see the fruit. I see how You’re growing my patience, my humility, my prayer life. I see how You’ve used disappointments to draw me closer to You. I see how You’ve used closed doors to redirect me toward better ones. You’re not being cruel—you’re being kind.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” — James 1:17 (CSB)

You don’t change. Not with my moods, not with my mistakes, not with my questions. Your love stays constant when everything else shifts. Even when the world is loud and my own heart is confused, You remain. And Your love remains. And it’s holy. And it’s healing me.

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A Prayer of Response:

Heavenly Father,

Thank You that Your love for me never ends. Thank You that it’s not based on my performance but on Your perfect nature. Thank You that when I fall short, You don’t walk away. Instead, You move closer. Thank You for the trials that lead me back to Your heart. Thank You for the pruning that prepares me for fruitfulness. Thank You that Your love confronts, corrects, and restores.

Lord, help me to trust You in the middle of refinement. When it hurts, remind me that You are near. When I’m tempted to believe that You are distant or angry, whisper again the truth that You are holy, and so is Your love. Help me to welcome Your discipline, knowing it is evidence that I am Your daughter.

Make me more like Jesus. Shape me with Your holy love. I surrender again tonight. Take everything that is not of You, and replace it with truth, with grace, and with fire.

And even if the mountains crumble, I will rest in the truth that Your love for me will never end.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.