Version 2.0

Version 2.0

By: Joylyn Ortiz

Today’s release notes via text:
New UI, same UX. 
I close my eyes, breathe, disconnect
from the lengthy monologue. 
I scroll and scroll,
hit “Accept” 
for this download:
2.0
…

Error code. 

What Does It Mean To Love God?

 Jesus instructed his followers, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all of your mind, and with all of your strength. This is the first and greatest commandment." (Matthew 22:37-38) This seems simple, but what does it mean to love God?

According to khouse.org "love" here is the Greek word "agapao," which means "to totally give yourself over to something or someone." This word "agapao" is not an emotional feeling of love. Instead, it represents relinquishing self-interest and putting the beloved first.

This source also says that the verb "agapao" means something different than the noun "agape," which represents the unconditional, unchanging love God demonstrates for humankind. Agapao means total commitment and surrender, but it can be to something good or bad. For example, in John 3:19, agapao means total surrender to "darkness," and in other parts of John agapao means surrender to "the praise of men" or "this present world."

What does it mean to agapao God? I John 4:7-8 says, "Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love." According to the biblehub.com translation of the Greek, this verse would look something like this:

"Those to whom we are totally committed and surrendered (Beloved, from agapao), let us love (agapomen, uncertain origin) one another, for unconditional, unchanging love (agape) comes from God; and everyone who loves (agapon, uncertain origin) is begotten or brought forth (gegennetai) from God and comes to know, recognize, or perceive (ginoskei) God...for God is unconditional, unchanging love (agape)."

So, if we love one another in some form (the exact type of love here is not specified), then we are begotten or brought forth from God and come to know, recognize, or perceive unconditional, unchanging love. If God is agape and Jesus instructs us to totally surrender ourselves to God, then aren't we called to commit ourselves to the practice of unconditional love that does not change according to circumstances? 

God is the kind of love that gave his best, his only begotten son, to redeem a world that did not love him. God is a love that sees the beauty, worth, and possibility in the other and extends himself toward them to help them discover their worth. Jesus demonstrated this with his disciples as he drew them close in communion on the night he would be betrayed. 

Jesus extended love to them in selfless service because he saw the worth and potential in each one, and it was greater than their sins. This is how God sees each of us: as the beloved, the one he gave it all to save. He fills us with this agape, Himself, so that we become capable of loving others this way. His love dwelling in us makes it possible to love our neighbor as ourselves, the second great command of Jesus (Matthew 22:38).

To love God, we must first receive the love of God. This love fills us and becomes the source of love within us. Once we are filled, we love God as the natural outpouring of that which is within us, extending love to our neighbor and the world.

For God so loved the world that he gave us Jesus to show us what agapao looks like: total surrender and commitment to God and his purposes. Jesus was not dedicated to religion, though he did participate in it. His love for God was not limited to scripture, sacrifices, rituals, customs, or feasts. Instead, he showed his agapao love for God by spending time in prayer and solitude so that he could hear the voice of God. Then, he was humble and courageous enough to do what God asked him to do, even to die on a cross.

Jesus believed in two things with all his heart: that God was who he said he was, and that Jesus was who God said he was: His beloved son, the Messiah, the savior of the world. His unshakeable faith in these two things shaped his response to all the circumstances of his life and made it possible for him to fulfill God's purpose and bring love into the hearts of all humankind.

God created us to receive His love, to let it live within us and pour out in unconditional, unchanging love for the world. He never meant us to manufacture this love through our own version of martyrdom. If we try to be "good people" by sacrificing and serving others without being filled by love, we will dry up and find ourselves empty and tired. It's not sustainable.

The Jesus story points us to a God who wants to dwell in us, loving us more intimately than any earthly version of love. This love is agape, the unearned, undeserved, unconditional love of God. Jesus himself is the living example of agapao, the love that gives everything it has for the beloved. The love that could have chosen light or dark. The love that spills out, flowing back in total commitment to God, to agape for the world.

On the Threshold II

On the Threshold II
By: Joylyn Ortiz

To the One who waits in the rain,
To I Am, the great Something,
The Someone who seeks,
Come.
Too long I have closed
My window,
Filling the room,
Leaving no space
For your glory.
Too busy,
Afraid?
No.
Not afraid.
Just trying to be
My own Something,
To prove I can.
Fierce and
Proud
  all
     by
        Myself.
Believing the lie:
I must stand alone,
Independent,
Worthy of
Praise.
Like
You.
Oh, that's where
I become God
Instead of
A temple.
Filling myself
With my own spirit
Instead of yours.
Filling my ears
With my own
Praise.
Hanging my
Accomplishments
On the wall
Like I did everything
  all
    by
      Myself.
No, no, no, no.
I remember.
Tender moments,
Childlike seeking,
Abba, help me
Find the way.
Step by step
Revealed,
Doors
Opened,
Prayers
Choked out
Through tears
Falling on homework,
School bills
Washed away
By timely aid.
You made
My way.
You lead me still
When I listen.
So I open
My window.
Come.

On the Threshold I

On the Threshold I
By: Joylyn Ortiz

On a rainy morning I find myself.
I seek myself.
I seek God.
Whoever or whatever God is:
The One who wants to be found,
Who seeks me,
Who finds me.
I seek myself, yes,
The deeper part, the hidden core
Lying buried most days
Beneath layers of work,
Entertainment,
Relationships,
Ambition,
Duty.
The rain reminds me:
When surface layers wash away,
Underneath lies a shiny, clean
Something.
The something I seek.
What lies beneath
These days?
Am I the same
When the layers wash away?
When I seek me,
When I find me,
Has time and experience
Altered something?
Am I wiser?
Kinder?
Less selfish?
More disciplined?
Am I pure?
And is God the fire
In my heart,
The song on my lips,
The One who opens
My eyes in wonder?
At my truest,
Washed naked,
Shiny and clean,
Will I find him?

Solitude

Solitude
By: Joylyn Ortiz

Speak in the quiet, in the dark.
Call out hidden beauty.
What purpose have I,
Small and alone?
You know. You know.

The Tomato Seed

The Tomato Seed

By: Joy Ortiz

            A tomato seed, resilient and small,

Charted a course through unforgiving circumstances.

            Through unspeakable muck she traveled,

Carried by the unseen current, the cycle, the mess.

            Where was she going? She knew not.

Covered in residual sludge, she journeyed on

            Till time brought an unexpected question:

Could waste become life? Redemption?

            Into the process the tomato seed went, trusting.

Chemical treatment, separation, settling, and drying

            Took her through what felt like dying.

Crying out to the one who sees all, who holds all,

            She clung to the hope of life, as life

Crumbled around her. Lifted once more by the unseen,

            She rose, then fell again into a heap…of what?

Compost, organic waste, a fertile bed.

            What once was waste had turned to soil.

Clouds rolled across the sky, thunder announcing

            Life-giving rain. She soaked it in, softening.

Could it be? Could she grow? Tentatively, she reached

            A root, spearing downward, a shoot, pressing up,

Coaxed toward the sunshine warmth above.

            She broke ground. Up and up, the tomato plant

Climbed into the light and air, into the world.

            She spread her leaves wide,

Catching the sun’s rays as she sent yet more roots

            Down into the nourishing earth,

Caressing the soil which had borne her here.

            Her arms grew heavy with fruit,

Carrying the burden of flourishing.

            Ripe with fullness of purpose, she rejoiced.

Creator who sees, Creator who knows,

            All praise to the one who, in mercy,

Causes seeds to grow.

The Resentment Tree

The Resentment Tree

By: Joy Ortiz

I dig deep 

To chop the bitter root

Tendril by tendril,

Hacking away,

Loosening its hold

On my heart. 

How obvious,

Tall and gangly,

Springing from my center,

The interloper:

Neglected garbage seed

Full grown. 

Pull it out?

No. 

Thicker than an arm

It stands

Testament. 

Unforgiven. 

Sucking life from my soil,

Ugly and obvious. 

What now?

To cut and dig,

Pour salt into wounds,

Sweat and labor,

To remove

The resentment tree

Before it overshadows me

Completely.