Personal Curriculum Notes #2 | Love

How wrestling with my heart led me to His

Feb 28, 2026

It’s a little raw and still taking shape, but each month I’m focusing on one fruit of the Spirit—praying, reading, and paying attention to how God forms us slowly, often quietly, in the everyday rhythms of life.

These notes are simply what I’m noticing along the way—places of resistance, growth, and grace—as I learn to abide and trust the Spirit’s work.

I’m spent the month contemplating love. And, surprisingly, it’s been harder than I expected.

Love has often felt soft to me—mushy, even cheesy. Trying to put words to it has been difficult. But that difficulty has made me curious. Why does love feel this way? What’s holding me back?

I grew up with a lot of tough love. I learned early that I was most likely to receive love if I did things right. So I became a high achiever—a perfectionist. But the reverse slowly took root as well: if I didn’t do things right, I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t worthy of love.

So I built walls to protect my heart from the sting of unmet expectations and unmet desires for affection. If the wall was strong enough, maybe my heart wouldn’t need love at all.

It felt like a solid defense strategy: protect yourself from pain.

Fortified borders signal strength in times of danger. When the gates are locked, enemies can’t get in. But neither can provisions. Over time, food runs scarce. Fear and uncertainty grow. And a new threat emerges—not from outside, but from within.

Yet God does not give us a spirit of fear (2 Timothy 1:7). We’re told that “perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18). So what do we do with wounded hearts that have learned to brace instead of receive?

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Psalm 147:3).

Instead of running from the love of God, I’m learning to submit to His tender care—to let Him dress the raw places, apply ointment, and wrap what has been exposed. It’s a gentle picture of His enduring love. We are not cast away. He draws near, guiding us like a Good Shepherd into places of rest and provision (Psalm 23).

God’s love is the healing I need. Though my experience of love has been imperfect, His is steadfast. As I seek refuge in Him, He leads me into knowing and enjoying Him more deeply.

“The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous man runs into it and is safe” (Proverbs 18:10).

So this month, as I’ve reflected on love—on my questions, my hesitations, and even my failures—I’ve put my gaze on God’s love, taking refuge there and finding safety.

1. The Greatest Command

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength” (Mark 12:30). This first and greatest command calls me to wholehearted devotion. I often think I love God enough, but reflecting on this verse reminds me how easily my love can be partial—distracted, hesitant, or tied up with comfort and control. I need more of His love to truly fill my life, because it’s only as I receive it fully that I can respond to Him fully. Practically, that means pausing each day to notice where I’m giving attention, energy, or affection away from Him, and redirecting it toward Him.

2. Wholehearted love grows when our desires are rightly ordered

Last month, in reflecting on self-control, I explored how disordered desires shape our lives. Love blooms when our desires are rightly ordered—first God, then neighbor. It shows up when I notice impatience, envy, or self-focus, and choose instead to act toward God and others. Practically, it can look like stopping mid-thought to ask, “Is this desire for me or for God?”—or choosing a kind word instead of a defensive one. Love is not just a feeling; it’s a reorientation of the heart toward the good of God and others.

3. Love is not something God has, but something He is

God doesn’t possess love—He is love (1 John 4:8). That means His love is constant, unchanging, and not conditional on performance or mood. My human experience often tells me love is given or withheld based on behavior, effort, or worthiness—but God’s love is His identity. That changes everything: it frees me from striving to earn it and invites me to trust it. Practically, I remind myself when I’m anxious about my own adequacy: God’s love is not based on me—it’s simply who He is.

4. God doesn’t love because we’re lovable

Romans 5:8 says, “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” His love reached even those bent against Him, even those who resisted Him. That humbles me. I can’t earn it, and I can’t fully comprehend it. Practically, this draws me to gratitude and awe, and to a posture of receiving rather than performing. It reshapes my prayers, my reflections, and my interactions—reminding me that if God can love the unlovable, I am called to reflect that same grace toward myself and others.

5. The effect of God’s love is peace

I hadn’t thought about this much before, but God’s love brings peace—peace with Him, peace within ourselves, and peace with others (Romans 5:1). It doesn’t remove effort or confrontation, but it changes the posture of the heart. Practically, I notice that when I dwell on God’s love instead of my fears or my unmet expectations, tension softens. My mind quiets, my interactions shift, and I can act with gentleness rather than anxiety. This is something I know I’ll explore more deeply in future months.

6. We respond to God’s love motivated to grow in holiness

God’s love is not just a comfort—it’s a call. When I dwell on how deeply He loves me, it awakens a desire to reflect that love in the way I live. Holiness isn’t about legalism or earning His favor; it’s about allowing His love to shape my thoughts, words, and actions. Practically, I notice moments when I’m impatient, reactive, or self-focused. Remembering His love motivates me to pause, pray, and respond differently—to align my desires with His purposes rather than my impulses (1 Peter 1:15-16).

7. God teaches us how to love

We don’t learn love instinctively. God shows us what love is through His Word. Studying Scripture reveals the character of God and the posture He calls us to take toward others. As I read, I’m reminded that love is patient, kind, humble, and steadfast (1 Corinthians 13:4-7). Practically, this means turning to Scripture when my heart struggles—when I’m frustrated with a family member, resentful toward a coworker, or tempted to withdraw from someone. The Word guides me in practicing the love God desires to grow in me.

8. Love is not just respect—it is selfless, humble, and giving

Jesus calls us to love as He loves, not merely to avoid hurting others or to act politely. Philippians 2:3-4 challenges me to “do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.” That is hard. Loving sacrificially is countercultural. But in my marriage, my family, and my friendships, I see that choosing to love—even when it’s inconvenient or challenging—creates connection, trust, and joy that nothing else can. Practically, it means prioritizing someone else’s needs, listening attentively, or extending forgiveness before it’s earned.

9. Familial and communal love matters

Our love for others, especially fellow believers, is a witness to the world. Jesus said, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35). When disagreements arise or preferences clash, it’s easy for the church to appear divided or hypocritical. Reflecting on this, I see that my love—or lack of it—impacts more than just my relationships; it’s part of our testimony as a community. Practically, it means leaning into reconciliation, humility, and listening, even when I’m frustrated, so that God’s love shines through.

10. Repenting of our loveless hearts
Philip Graham Ryken writes, “Most of the time, most of us tend to believe that we do a pretty good job of loving other people. So we rarely repent of our loveless hearts…We forget to pray that the Holy Spirit would make us better lovers” (Loving the Way Jesus Loves). This struck me deeply. My love is often imperfect, and I can hide behind shame or excuses. But instead, God invites me to draw near, confess my shortcomings, and ask Him to fill my heart with His love. Practically, this means pausing in moments of frustration or indifference and praying for God’s love to flow through me, asking Him to make me the kind of person who loves others as He loves me.

Lord Jesus, we love imperfectly. We struggle with desires that aren’t aligned with yours. Forgive us for our lovelessness, and fill us with your love so we may love others as you do.

Wrestling with love this month has reminded me how often my heart falls short—and yet, God’s love meets me there.

May we become fruitful as we thrive in grace.