“The Kind of Love that Stays”

—a letter from the heart about Jesus’ love

There’s a kind of love that doesn’t leave when things get quiet.

That kind of love doesn’t wait for you to have the right words, or the perfect faith.

It stays—through the questions, through the wandering, through the nights when your prayers feel more like silence than song.

That’s the love of Jesus.

It’s not just a belief system or a Sunday ritual.

It’s a presence.

A person.

And if you’ve ever sat still long enough to notice, you’ve probably felt it—the warmth that surrounds you when you thought you were all alone.

The peace that settles into your bones when nothing around you makes sense.

Jesus isn’t just a Savior to me.

He’s not just someone I read about.

He’s the one who’s walked with me through every storm I thought would undo me.

He’s been the voice that whispered when I couldn’t lift my own.

The quiet comfort that wrapped itself around my soul on the days I couldn’t even pray.

There are moments in life when you don’t need a lecture, a lesson, or a list of things to fix.

You just need someone to sit with you.

To see you.

To hold your heart without asking you to explain it.

And that’s Him.

He’s more than a friend.

He’s the one who knows what I don’t say.

Who sees past the brave face I wear and loves me in the undone places I try to hide.

He’s the one who never made me prove I was enough—because He already knew I was.

He has held me in ways no human ever has.

When I’ve walked away, He’s stayed.

When I’ve broken things, He’s rebuilt them.

When I’ve collapsed, He hasn’t told me to “try harder”—He’s sat beside me until I could breathe again.

This love… it’s not soft in the way the world defines softness.

It’s strong.

It’s fierce.

It’s honest and unshakable.

And the beautiful, wild truth is—He offers it to each of us.

Not because we earned it.

Not because we prayed the right prayer.

But because that’s just who He is.

So if you’re weary—come.

If you’ve messed up—come.

If you’re doubting, hiding, aching—still, come.

There is no part of you too broken for Him to love.

He won’t fix you with a snap of His fingers.

He’ll walk with you into healing.

He’ll stay while you find your way back.

He’ll love you with the kind of love that never lets go.

And that’s what I’ve come to know:

Jesus is not just the answer.

He is the presence in the question.

The breath in the quiet.

The best friend my soul didn’t know it was aching for.

And now that I’ve tasted that love—

I could never go back to anything less.