Divine Love Proceeds Divine Change

                         

Dear Reader,  

Have you ever asked yourself, "When will I be worthy of being loved for who I am?" 

 

I thought of this today while reading Alan Cohen’s words: “If you simply love yourself, just as you are, right where you are, you will become an unstoppable force for healing and transformation.” 

 

Cohen’s message overturns a self-defeating belief many of us carry. He suggests that healing begins when we honestly acknowledge where we are and say, "This is who I am today, and I am still worthy of love." 

 

Through recovery and by letting a loving God guide my life, I have learned that I am not alone in becoming the person God intends me to be. It begins with a willingness to change, continues with actions that support that change, and grows through accepting those changes as gifts from God—known in recovery as a "Higher Power." 

 

Ironically, acceptance loosens the hardened soil of self-condemnation and allows seeds of faith, hope, and healing to grow in spiritual sunlight. 

 

In recovery, this transformation may feel slow. Still, we should remember: "We are not saints. The point is that we are willing to grow along spiritual lines." Recovery does not begin with perfection. It begins with telling the truth about ourselves and discovering that we are still loved by God and by others. 

 

The Gospel declares: "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." — Matthew 11:28   

Notice that Christ does not say, "Come when you have fixed yourself." 

He simply says, "Come." 

The woman caught in adultery, Zacchaeus, and Peter after denying Christ were all accepted before they were transformed. 

 

Divine love precedes divine change. 

 

Sadly, many alcoholics spend years fighting themselves. Real change often begins when they stop resisting and start accepting reality. As the Big Book says, "Acceptance is the answer." 

Acceptance is not surrendering to our defects; it is surrendering to the truth. 

 

Scripture reminds us that we are not meant to appear fully formed like a blossom. We begin as seedlings, then grow, bud, and slowly unfold into full bloom. 

God’s view of the garden is much the same. We begin by admitting our powerlessness and the unmanageability of our lives. We learn acceptance, practice spiritual principles, and gradually blossom into the people God created us to be. 

 

We are not seedlings because God loves us less than the blossom. We are seedlings because growth is part of His plan. 

The moment we stop insisting that we must be different before we are worthy of love, we discover the power that helps us change. 

Divine love precedes divine change. 

🙏🏻🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️ 

 

When the Eyes Breathe Love

  

Dear Reader,

Today, a friend sent me these words from Rumi:

"Love is the cure, for pain keeps producing more pain until your eyes exhale love as naturally as your body gives off its scent." 

At first, I wondered how eyes could exhale love. Eyes do not breathe or speak.  Yet, reflecting further I understand exactly what Rumi means.

Have you ever looked into the eyes of someone who has suffered deeply and still remained kind? There is something in them that words cannot fully explain. 

• Some eyes show bitterness.
• Some show fear.
• Some show anger.

But once in a while, we meet someone whose eyes reflect compassion, patience, and understanding. We sense that life has wounded them, yet those wounds have become wisdom instead of resentment.

Rumi suggests that pain, left alone, multiplies itself. Hurt turns into anger. Anger turns into isolation. Isolation turns into despair. The cycle continues until something greater breaks it.

            Love is what breaks that cycle.

The philosopher Epictetus taught: what disturbs us is not events themselves, but our judgments about them. We may not always choose our circumstances, but we can choose what they produce within us.

In Recovery I find the same truth.  My happiness is not dependent on the outside, it is found from within.

The miracle of recovery is not that pain vanishes, but that it can be transformed.

• "Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good." — Romans 12:21
• "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you." — Matthew 5:44
• "Have ye experienced this mighty change in your hearts?" — Alma 5:14

I believe that mighty change happens whenever fear yields to faith; resentment yields to forgiveness; and self-centeredness yields to service.

In Alcoholics Anonymous, I have experienced that self-will alone cannot solve my deepest problems. As I turned to a Higher Power, I found healing came not by determination, it came from transformation.

• My need to be right softened.
• My need to control faded.
• My urge to win every argument lost its grip.

As Rumi suggests, even my eyes begin to breathe inner peace and love.

                God's grace was greater than my pain.

I know others, like me. They are in recovery meetings, in churches, and found in quiet acts of service—serving meals to the homeless, sitting beside hospital beds, and helping others without seeking recognition.

They carry a certain fragrance of the soul. Just as a rose does not strain to release its perfume,  They do not strain to radiate kindness.  Love has become their nature and their eyes speak before their lips do.

Perhaps that is one of the clearest signs of God at work in a life—not the absence of suffering, but the presence of love where suffering once ruled.

It is my Hope that each of us continue towards this mighty change of heart.

And may our eyes one day breathe love as effortlessly as a rose shares its fragrance with the world.

  🙏🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️  

Love, Compassion, and Giving

Dear Reader,  

One of my observations from living today is that we must navigate a field of distractions.  Some admittedly are pleasurable and provide a certain degree of value.  Still others are merely ego centered pleasures based in a material rich world. 

For me, it is a constant battle among Competing forces.   Those forces that allow me to be complacent with life's order and those challenging me to become involved with shaping a greater loving, compassionate and giving world. 

I offer thoughts from writers I admire: 

"What we give to others, we give to ourselves. What we withhold from others, we withhold from ourselves."  — Marianne Williamson 

"You can preach a better sermon with your life than with your lips." — Oliver Goldsmith 

These two statements point toward a profound spiritual truth: the greatest sermon is not spoken—it is lived. 

I am not left alone with these two thinkers.  Throughout scripture, God consistently invites His children to become people of love, compassion, and generosity.  

The Savior's ministry was not defined primarily by His words, remarkable as they were. Rather, it was defined by His life. He touched the leper, comforted the grieving, fed the hungry, forgave the sinner, and welcomed the outcast. 

His life was His sermon. 

I am supported further by Book of Mormon:  "When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God."  — Mosiah 2:17 

Compassion is not merely social virtue; it is spiritual practice. President Thomas S. Monson often taught:  "Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved." 

His counsel reminds us that discipleship is measured not by efficiency, accomplishment, or even knowledge, but by our capacity to love. 

Charity is more than generosity. It is the pure love of Christ—seeing others as God sees them and responding in love. As the Apostle Paul wrote, "faith, hope, and charity abide, but the greatest of these is charity." 

This idea echoes throughout history.   

Mahatma Gandhi observed: "The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others."  

The Dalai Lama taught: "If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion."  

Albert Einstein concluded: "Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile." 

Morman: "But charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him."  -- Maroni 7:47 

Though these voices come from different traditions, they point toward a common truth: we flourish when we move beyond ourselves.   

When we overcome our protective fear and reprioritize ourselves, there emerges abundance. Let us recall, Christ multiplied loaves and fishes. He turned water into wine. He offered grace without measure. 

In short, the kingdom of God operates according to a paradox: what we give away often becomes what we most deeply possess. 

When we give love, our capacity for love expands. 

When we extend mercy, we experience mercy. 

When we offer forgiveness, we discover freedom. 

When we comfort another, we ourselves are comforted. 

The Savior declared: "For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake shall find it." — Matthew 16:25  

This is not a call to self-neglect. It is an invitation to transcend self-centeredness and enter into the joy of Christlike living.  

Perhaps the question for each of us today is simple: What sermon am I preaching with my life? 

Do people encounter more patience because of me? 

More hope because of me? 

More kindness because of me? 

More evidence that God loves them because of me? 

The world does not need more arguments about faith nearly as much as it needs living examples of faith. 

Every smile, every encouraging word, every act of forgiveness, every expression of compassion becomes a small sermon preached without a pulpit. 

May we become disciples whose lives proclaim the Gospel more loudly than our words. 

May we learn to love as Christ loved. 

May we give as Christ gave. 

May we discover that in blessing others, we ourselves are blessed. 

And may our lives become a sermon of love, compassion, and giving.   

Amen. 

  🙏🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️