Immanuel, God with us

The Virgin shall conceive and you shall call his name Immanuel. 

Immanuel, Immanuel.
God with us.

Tender are our hearts, fragile are our souls.
How far off has our God seemed?
Our sacrifices have fallen short, our wayward flesh has turned away.
Oh Lord, How long?

The cry was growing greater.
O Come, O Come Immanuel.
The captivity of our hearts is great, The longing of our souls is immense.
How long, Oh Lord?
We need a ransom, We need a savior.

But there will be no gloom for her who is in anguish.

Immanuel, his name like a blanket over our frozen bodies.
Immanuel, this hope like a healing balm to our wounds that have not stopped bleeding.
Immanuel, our cry has never been more sure,
our longings have never been more real.

The people who have walked in darkness have seen a great light.

The Hebrews were not even looking,
how dim their light had been.
The Gentiles had not even known,
how dark their decaying worlds existed.

The angel said to them, Fear not! For I bring you glad tidings of great joy that will be for all the people.

Instantaneously, their hearts were touched with light.
It did not blind them, it caused them to see for the first time.
Every heart in all of humanity in the proclamation of the Savior's birth rejoiced.
The fulfillment of prophecies, the hope of the whole world, the one who was to come was here.

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

As they gazed down at this child of love, whose tender smile was a gift, whose cry was a sure sign that God had become man, whose eyes pierced hearts. As they beheld the eyes of the Savior, hope set in. They knew. In that moment it was clear to them that this God-child had come to shake the earth. He had come to teach a new law of love, to give them a new covenant. He was Immanuel. He was God with us. Never before had anything been so profound, so marvelous, so lovely. He was here. He was for you, He was for me. He was here to bring resurrection. He was gentle and kind. He was fire and love. He was water in the desert, keys to the imprisoned, healing for the broken, hope for the hopeless. He was Immanuel. Now with us was God.

And this baby that held the whole world in his hands, came to us.
This baby came in the likeness of man to save him, guide him and love him.
This baby was God with us, This man was God for us, This resurrected Savior is God in us.
Immanuel, God is with us.

Rejoice, Rejoice, Immanuel has come to us, O Israel.

An Ode To Us

This is to you. To you who have been walking a tightrope for a long time, fairly confident you were doing well but found yourself in the middle, heart beating wildly and terrifyingly high in the sky.

This is to us. To us who are exhausted. To those of us who feel as if one more step will cause us to fall, we're in the middle of a desert and there is no comfort in sight. No beds, no inviting shelter to at least protect us from the long night.

This is to us. To us who have entered the valley of the shadow of death. The corpses are all around us, and the memories of grief haunt us.

This is for you. To you who feels this heavy sadness sinking like a millstone around your neck. The kind of sadness where the lights turn off and all you see is darkness.

This is for me. Who carries all this weight and juggles all these stories and all this emotion. This is for me, finally admitting that things are not okay.


And there it was, the beauty in the crumbling. The shining light in the midnight of this soul. The breath in this panic.
The vulnerability was shining lights into our kaleidoscope hearts.
The truth was burning light into our deepest pains and into the reality of our hurt.
The loveliness that came with the sadness in our voices when we finally said, "I'm not okay."
We crawled out of our cocoons and how marvelous it was to be free.
We dropped our baggage and our self-inflicted weight and how splendidly free we were.

Everything was falling apart. And that is when his voice was the mightiest.

"O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted,

behold, I will set your stones in antimony,

and lay your foundations with sapphires." ~ Isaiah 54:11

His voice, it came gently, boldly, speaking to the disintegrating foundations of my heart.

His love, it swept in ravishing my soul, destroying every lie and inviting me into a beautiful rest, where it was his work, not my own; his strength, my weakness; his beauty, my dilapidated heart

and he began to rebuild. 

When I was 16, my aunt bought me a ring that quoted Psalm 46:10, "Be still and know that I am God." And she, knowing me so well, continually reminds me of that ring. "Leah, be still," she tells me. Parts of me feel I cannot be still. I have many things to carry, many tasks to accomplish, many messes to clean, many hearts to mend. I'm on a mission, I am a whirlwind. andhowcanIbestillwhenIjustcantstop? howcanIbestillwhenIrunsofast? I'm unstoppable,unbreakable,invincible. And yet, as I type that, I know it isn't true. And that verse comes back to me in its context.

God is our refuge and strength,

a very present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, 

though the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,

though its waters roar and foam,

though the mountains tremble at its swelling.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,

the holy habitation of the Most High,

God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved;

God will help her when morning dawns.

The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;

he utters his voice, the earth melts.

The Lord of hosts is with us;

the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Come, behold the works of the Lord,

how he has brought desolations on the earth. 

He makes wars cease to the end of the earth,

he breaks the bow and shatters the spear;

he burns the chariots with fire.

"Be still and know that I am God.

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth!"

The Lord of hosts is with us;

the God of Jacob is our fortress.

There is a very real struggle here. The Psalmist is witnessing his entire world crumble. The very ground he stands on is unstable. He is unsteady as he watches mountains be thrust into the sea and he watches on the shoreline as the waves become angrier and angrier. And yet, as he witnesses the world fall apart, he sees something even more beautiful; God. God is his refuge and his strength and he sees how ever-present He is. As the kingdoms totter and fall, he hears God speak and the earth melts, goes soft, becomes putty in His hands. Come, He tells us, come and see the works of the Lord, and be still. This Greek word means to sink down, relax, and be quiet. God is telling us, Stop your striving and know (yada) that I am God. Yada is the Greek word for intimacy. Stop striving and know me. The invitation is to enter into His character and His love. To become face to face with His Kindness and His Goodness. 

It's been a rough week. For a moment, I thought my world was crumbling, my life had rewound and I was reliving my own history. There was an overwhelming anxiety, but even greater was God's call to stop striving, stop trying, to stop. And to know that He was God. Despite my unsteady heart, despite the shaky ground and the brokenness around me, He was still God and He was my refuge and strength. 

But I know that my world was not the only one that fell apart this week. A few very dear friends struggled this week also. But it was so lovely how we all rallied around each other. We gave each other what we had out of our brokenness and together there was comfort and encouragement in these rough days. 

And so, this is for us. This is an ode to us in our brokenness and our sadness and our helplessness. This is a gift of hope in our frightening circumstances and our overwhelmed hearts.

To the one on the tightrope? What you don't know is that God watched you walk out there, in all your confidence and pride. But you looked down, like Peter on the water, fear paralyzed you. And what you don't know is that there is a net below even if you fall. But if keep your eyes steady and fixed on him I promise you'll make it to the other side.

To the one is exhausted? You may not see a shelter and you may not see a reprieve from the demands that won't stop knocking on your door, but there is a promise when you turn to him in that desert place. Your way is not hidden from the Lord. "Have you not known? The Lord is the everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted, but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; the shall walk and not faint."

To the one in the valley? Oh love, don't you remember the verse? Even though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, fear no evil for God is with you, his rod and his staff, they comfort you." My friend, this is just the shadow. Death cannot harm you, death has no sting on you. Because the Lord is your shepherd. In these pangs of grief, remember his gentle comfort and his good heart.

And to the one carrying such a heavy weight? His yoke is easy and his burden is light. You were never called to fix everyone, or carry everyone's burdens, that is only a job our strong God can do. You, my friend, were called to encourage and pray. You my friend, who try and hold the entire world together, can you not remember that was never your job? Come and rest tonight in his everlasting love and his kind heart. 

This is to us. But this is not about us. This is an invitation to let God be God. This is an invitation to rest in his everlasting love and to just be still and know that He is God. So wherever you are tonight, whether you are on a mountaintop, in the valley, carrying a burden too heavy for your small arms, exhausted or walking out on an unknown tightrope, God is with you and God is for you. 

God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved. ~ Psalm 46:5

The Truth in the Wilderness

The terrain was my heart. This breathtaking scene before me was the landscape of my soul. My heart, full of mountains and valleys, rivers and deserts, was full. At 5400', I could not avert my eyes from the majestic beauty laid out before me.

Mount Rogers wasn't my first mountain conquered, nor was it my hardest, but it was a mountain, and victoriously I was standing on the top. As my eyes took in the miles of mountains before me, dread seeped into my heart.
There were more mountains to climb.
Don't get me wrong, I love climbing mountains, I love embarking on new adventures, but this mountain was hard. We had endured extreme cold, long nights, heavy packs and getting lost. A familiar feeling tried to wedge its way into my heart: it wasn't hopelessness I was feeling, we were beyond that, it was homesickness. O, how I longed for my heavenly home. How I am longing to be clothed in the full garments of righteousness, in the beautiful rest of Heaven because this terrain is getting rough, my feet are tired, and I am frighteningly unsteady. 

And the truth was, each of those hard things painted me a heart-wrenching picture of my own life. 

The extreme cold resembled the storm that tried to ravage me to my core. But there was gratitude, people saw my distress, mostly because I had the courage to be vulnerable and tell them how cold I was, they donated their warm things to me. Will I have the courage to be vulnerable in this trial? To take off my strength that I wear like armor, and reveal that I'm shaking to my core? To show that I am unsteady and I have questions and there is still a real struggle?

 The weight I carry has become a burden."Come to me." I heard the familiar words, "all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest." Weary? That's about right. It's the very definition of my name. Burdened? I'd say so, my pack was heavy. I was carrying less of what my true needs were and more of what I thought I might need. But there is a way to carry a backpack, that it rests just properly on your hips and becomes one with you, it's possible I did it properly. But there was this invitation. This gentle, kind, loving invitation to remove the burden and enter into rest. "Come to me." Why was it so hard to accept the invitation? Do I believe that He would give me rest? "Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Maybe it's hard because I don't know what His yoke is, maybe it's hard because I can't imagine carrying anything different than what I have been carrying for so long. I have what works for me. Does it make me thrive? And what would happen if I actually let go(d)?

We were lost in the wilderness. After a serious of unfortunate events and quick decisions, we found ourselves on what we thought was the right path, but truly it was wrong. We came to a place where we were unsure of how we would weather the windy night, with little shelter, a lack of food and no communication with the rest of our group. But we prayed that God would guide our footsteps in the potentially dangerous predicament we found ourselves in. And he gave us wisdom, guided our reading of the map and we made it back to camp before sundown. Trust was the lesson he taught me out of this, trusting our circumstances to him and trusting others into his hands.

The mountain was hard, but it was beautiful. The storm was strong, but it created something lovely. My pack was heavy, but I learned perseverance. We saw water provided out of nothing, we shared warmth inside of cold tents, we processed what it meant for us to be lost in the wilderness and the coping mechanisms we had. We laughed and we cried, we fell and we stood strong. The mountain painted a picture, and I longed to stay on top. I was thriving on top. But there was a valley down below, where the things I learned on the mountain would be utilized and called upon. How vividly I encountered God on top of the mountain would be the light in the darkness of the valley below. But I could hear his invitation to enter into the valley, which would be a different kind of hard and unsure.

2 Corinthians 4:16-18 says,

         "So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed       day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory            beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal."

On our life mountains, we do not lose heart. But doesn't God see that our outer selves are wasting away? Doesn't He see how tired this heart is, and how weary this body has become? Doesn't He hear my groaning? How can I not lose heart?

2 Corinthians 5:4-5 says,

            "For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened - not that we would be unclothed          but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He         who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee."

These verses are filled with deep hurt and immense truth. My vision can be clouded with hopelessness, but as it fades away, I hear, "I see you. I know you. I feel this with you."

We groan, anxiously waiting for the time when what is mortal will be swallowed up by life. And this next statement is stunning. He who has prepared us for this very thing is GOD. 

He who has prepared us for this mountain is God. He who is walking with us on this mountain is God. He who asks for our faith, even though everything is cloudy and we can't see feet in front of us, is God. He who knows the struggle is God. He who has felt our afflictions and knows them intimately is the God who is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.

This weight of glory is beyond all comparison.  It does not compare to the glory I encountered on top of the mountain. It does not compare to the majesty of the wild ponies. And it surely does not compare to the struggle it took in reaching the top. This weight of glory is beyond all comparison.

With that truth, how can I not accept the perfect invitation into rest? How can I not follow GOD into the valley? How can I not trust him with everything in me? Oh yes, I'll groan, I'll hurt, I'll mourn. Surely, I'll be fragile and unsteady. But the thing about courage is that there is still fear, but there is action despite the fear.
Yes, I will still feel deeply, yes, I might break, "But I have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. I am afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed, always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies."

That is how I will not lose heart. By letting the LIGHT OF LIFE shine into my broken jar of clay so it burns like a kaleidoscope. And if climbing a mountain, extreme cold, getting lost and heavy packs can all be a part of the painful lessons of glory, then I am ready to face them head on. If all these things that make me feel hurt and shatter my clay, creates me into a better vessel for God's Light, then I will accept the invitation into rest, then I will enter into the night of wrestling so that I can know him more. 

how jumping off a cliff taught me to trust Jesus more

I found myself on top of the cliff for a few reasons.

1. I trusted my friend who coaxed me up there with my life.
2. My adventurous spirit got the best of me as I was watching the other crazy people jump.
3. I was probably crazy.

But there I was, on top of the cliff, remembering everything my parents told me when I was younger, "If your friend jumped off a cliff, would you jump too?" Of course, my answer was no.
But here I was, on top of a cliff, beside a beautiful waterfall, preparing to jump, because my friend told me to.

What an odd sense of dread and exhileration overcame me as I stood approximately 40 feet above the water. There was one rock in which I was supposed to leap from. And it was small. The water seemed so much further away then when I had been on the bottom looking up.

After a good 8 minutes of battling back and forth between hating myself for climbing up here and eager all at the same time, I was overcome with a barely an ounce of courage

and

             I
                               J
                                 U
                                     M
                                          P
                                              E
                                                  D.

How marvelous and dreadful it was to be falling weightlessly through the air.
How intense the impact when the water smacked my body.
How fearful I became when I was sure I would never find the surface.
How deeply happy I was when I breathed in for what felt like the first time in years.

Oddly enough, A few days later, someone encouraged me:
"God is putting a cliff before you and he wants you to trust him unconditionally and jump."
This person did not know that I had jumped off a cliff a few days previously.
But God knew, and certainly he was going to take advantage of this analogy.

I"m on the edge of the cliff and I'm part way between an overwhelming dread and a small ounce of courage. At the same time, I'm falling weightlessly through the sky and at the bottom barely breathing. It's a cicular pattern in my head, this cliff.

And yet, The LORD is here. He is the water encapsulating me at the bottom. He is my hope that I will not die and he is my encouragement at the top promising me how worth it this will be.

I don't know what your cliff is. Maybe it's like mine and you've already jumped and you hated it the first time and loved it all at the same time, but God is asking you to jump again. Maybe it's encountering grief and anger. Maybe it's forgiving the one who victimized you to the point of terror. Maybe, it is learning independence. Maybe it is loving deeply.
Your cliff could be many things, but the one thing I've learned about jumping off cliffs (with water at the bottom) is that thy are always worth it. You will always have a story and there is always reason to trust the ONE who calls you there.

Deep calls to deep
    at the roar of your waterfalls;
all your breakers and your waves
    have gone over me.
8 By day the Lord commands his steadfast love,
    and at night his song is with me,
    a prayer to the God of my life.

When a Heart Breaks

Her heart broke right in front of me.

I watched it fumble in her hands

and suddenly 

it fell

Silently to the floor.

It transpired in slow motion

there were pieces 

and fragments. 

I slowly looked back up to her face

it crumpled. 

a tear morphed into sobs

until her entire body gave way to 

the painful process of mourning. 

My heart wrenched inside me,

twisting until I felt a piece of her pain.

Her grief transported me 

to a place, I knew all too well.

A sadness I longed to forget,

a brokenness I didn't want to keep. 

I wanted to sweep up her heart

return it to her ribcage, whole

unscathed.

My prayers became fervent.

What do I do?

What can I do?

How can I watch her break?

How can I give her comfort?

The answers came, 

sure and steady.

If I have the Holy Spirt  

living within me

and if he is powerful

and if he speaks to the depths of my soul,

Then I have truth that shines through lies,

the comfort that breaks through pain,

hope that lights up the darkness

a peace that sits beside still waters.

I have yet to understand

all the little memories

that stay with me

and all the words 

that shaped my thinking.

I don't always know why heartache enters our souls,

and our sin-stained world has allowed

brokenness to mar our skin

and weaken our spirits.

But I do know my God 

and HE is good.

I know HIM 

and HE is kind. 

I know that the moment I saw her heart shatter,

I saw his shatter too.

When I wanted nothing more but to 

heal her heart

I know HE did more.
And I cannot understand why her heart had to break in such a way

or why I had to witness her sadness

and return to my own.

But I do know that no matter how unsteady my ground

and how shaky my feet

he is steady

he is sure

he will hold me fast.

he will heal her heart.

I now know that he doesn't tell me this life will be easy, but he does say he will be with me. He doesn't promise to take away the hurt, but he does covenant to hold me up. I trust him with my heart and I pray that every day, new opportunities will arise for me to share my hope, impart truth, prophecy love, give comfort and pray fervently. That moment, the one where I saw a heartbreak, will forever sit with me. Because the Lord has used it to confirm in me his truths, my gifts, and his heart.

when a heart breaks,

so does Jesus'.

When a heart shatters,

we see Jesus. 

adventure; fernweh; saudade (n)

Do you know what I mean when I say it was a perfect vacation?

It was with the very best people. It was as if for one beautiful week our souls had been fused together, our reunion held us tight. 

It was in the most beautiful of places. Surrounded by waterfalls speaking to my heart and beautiful mountains calling our names. 

It was lovely. There was laughter constantly in the air, the fresh aroma of memories being created, and the sweetness of adventure. 

Do you know?

And how good is my God who gifted me this precious time, these sweet hours to be forever etched in my heart. It was the beginning of the summer when he promised my heart excitement. Disappointed for my initial plans of travel fell through,  he planned bigger. He whispered, "Unexpected adventure and unexpected friendship." Straight to my soul, in the part that was the most needing, the most hungry for those things. 

The friendship came in the most expected place that I suspected it the least. And it was gentle, a soul connection, one heart tied to another instantaneously as if we were born to know one another. 

The adventure came from a quick text, a perusal on Kayak Flights, and a stash of saved tips and babysitting money hidden in my drawer. And it was unexpected and freeing and brilliant all at the same time.

I found a flight and it was cheap, a one way ticket to adventure. My friend answered my text, Yes, always down for an adventure. People seemed concerned, telling me I would need to budget more than I planned, did I really think I could afford this? Was this worth my money?

My heart fashioned for adventure seemed to care less about their silly concerns. The summer took forever to get to the day when I stepped on the plane. And then I was there, 30,000 feet in the sky, my heart even higher.

And I wonder, now that it's over, now that I'm deep in the blues of post-adventure depression, I wonder what God was teaching me on that sweet adventure. Day 1 began with some hikes to some beautiful waterfalls. The water was ice, but we had a picnic on a rock and I'll have to say that my lunch view was better than yours. We saw the sundial bridge, and drove the car flipping pennies, heads right, tails left, to tell us our final destination.

 Burney falls was stupendous. Gallons of water pouring all over the sides and into the mountain and out strange locations, the water still crystal clear. But my thirst was quenched at the Hatchet Creek Falls. There is something about floating on a log and underneath a waterfall that filled my soul which overflowed. My head fell back in laughter as Rachel screamed, "I don't want to be on the side that goes under the waterfall." But all I wanted was to keep going as Amos pushed us under the flow of the falls.

Mt. Shasta is stunning. As I looked up admiring it's beauty and wondered if maybe this was the type of mountain Jesus was talking about when he said our faith can move mountains. Because on the sides of it's steep hills, there were gentle streams of melting snow and flourishing wildflowers that had a Psalm 23 feel. The Lord is my shepherd and I have no want. He leads me beside these still waters and makes me lie down in green pastures.
 

The Redwoods were beyond comparison. Around every curve in the trail, audible "Wows" were whispered out of my mouth, immediately followed by the clunk of my water bottle as I scurried into a tree or ran to try and wrap my arms around it. We walked for hours and it still didn't get old. We walked until exhaustion demanded we find the car and our giggles were a sure sign we were entering the stage of the sleepy laughter.

Driving way too fast down back curvy roads late at night with Adele serenading us on max volume and laughing until you can't breathe because of the differences between pigs and flamingos. Some people call it reckless, but I call it living. These are the moments I live for, these are the memories I'll treasure. It is these moments I'll try to explain to you, but they are my memories and mean more to me then you'll ever know.

California was the adventure of a lifetime. It was worth every penny I spent. I think travel does something to me. It's a virus in my blood, but it has done nothing to harm me, instead it has strengthened me, taught me and grown me in incredible ways. God's voice is so much louder when I'm in new places and my heart feels alive as I stand small next to ancient trees and in awe in front of magnificent mountains. I see his Father heart when my friends speak encouragement into my life and God speaks through them to show me how to live my life more for him. The travel bug is in my heart and I can't get it out. So if every adventure begins with such a high and ends with a deep longing to return but fulfills me like this one, then keep taking me.

Travel changes my perspective. It is unexpected and vibrant and brilliant and I think it is so much like the God I serve. Oh how intimately he knows my heart. Inside and out. How wonderful that he treasures me so well that he provides these adventures.  He knows each intimate part of me. He knows I need road trips and laughter. He knows that he created my heart without borders. And he knows I need planes and cars, waterfalls and mountains. Heat and cold. He knows I need change or my heart becomes restless, I drown in these ritualistic days.

California was a gift. Sometimes God needs not say anything to me. Instead, he wraps these elegant gifts. They are packaged in priceless friends and breathtaking memories. California was God's reminder to me of how he truly loves me, he intimately knows me and he treasures me.

So I guess I wrote this to help me cope with the wanting to return, but I also wrote it for you. I want you to experience life to the fullest the way I do, I want you to jump off of waterfalls, buy plane tickets spontaneously, hike mountains and touch the coast on the other side of the world. I know a God and he is good all the time, and he is constant and faithful but he is unexpected and surprising. And with all my heart, I want you to know him too because he embarks on the most exciting of adventures with us. Life.

The Unspoken of Love Is

I forgot.
I got so distracted. So tangled up in one small characteristic that I couldn't get my heart around.

I missed it. I missed the message. Because after years of reading, "Love is patient, Love is kind..." I decided that patience was the one that needed the most work. Suddenly, without my realization, love is patient was all there was to love.

I encountered LOVE himself, I experienced the depths of his patience, his goodness, his kindness. And yet it was still a slap to my face when I moved onto the second characteristic of Love.

Love is Patient. Check.
Love is kind.

Love

is

kind.

I could hear his voice. And it was gentle, but oh, how I feel the sword of truth slicing the marrow of my soul.

I was patient, but was I kind in my love?

I did not envy, but did I boast?

I was not arrogant, but was I rude?

How often do I insist on my own way and if I do not get it am irritable in return?

I do not rejoice at wrong, but do I delight in truth?

Love is beyond patience.
Love is all of these characteristics that I cannot embody in my own strength.
Love is Someone. Love is the one, knocking, waiting, outside the door to our souls.
And when is that that we will quit trying so hard to be something that we are not.

When is it that we will fall, quickly, wholly, completely, into his bountiful grace?

This is why just a few short chapters later it does not say, "Grab a hold of love." It does not say, "Become love." As if it were a small, quick act. Instead, chapter 14 begins, "Pursue love."

Pursue. Dioko. 1. to make to run or flee. 2. to run swiftly in order to catch a person or thing--to pursue (in a hostile manner.)

I am not a biblical scholar. But this word is translated 28 times as persecute. It seems odd, but maybe  the intention is that those reading this text would see the absolute haste demanded, the intense necessity of pursuing love, not only the characteristic but ultimately the person, Jesus Christ. 

This LOVE is steadfastly patient. It is unwaveringly kind. It does not lust after other things, it's only boast is in Christ. It is not self-conceited, and it is not rude. It is self-sacrificial, and it delights in Truth. Love is Christ. And he bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things and endures all things. This Love, This Savior, he never ends.

I am falling, finally, into his bountiful grace. Love will not come from some place deep inside of me, from things I enjoy and things I desire. Instead, this LOVE will come from living a life side by side with the greatest love of them all. It will not be about my own strength, or grabbing hold of love, instead, it will be pursuing love, swiftly and purposefully.