Agape has shown up in everything, I’m still learning to recognize it. As a kid, I knew it as the big man in the sky, watching, judging, condemning. Someone to be feared, someone who intentionally created us imperfect and damaged. And then judges, shames, and punishes us for it. God, “divine love” hung over my head. It was a thundering voice on a pulpit, and the habitual disappointment in my mother’s eyes. I dreaded church, the pressure to come pristine. Getting my hair pulled at the night before to show up pretty dresses and bows. I’d never understood how people came here looking for a sense of solace or peace. All I’d ever gotten from it was suffocation and a fear of imperfection. It wasn’t until Covid when I was about 16 that I saw it as anything differently. That was when my God, Source, agape, whatever you’d like to call it left those towering four walls and entered the world around me. Entered into my flaws, and my shadows. Entered my hurt, instead of condemning it to fire and brimstone. That was the first time in my life that I saw a spark of God in me and the world around me, when God stopped being inherently separate and started being omnipotent. Omnipresent, my mistakes became results of the illusion of separation from divine love instead of stepping stones to hell. My insecurities became something to pour love into rather than attempting to shame them away. I became a reflection and extension of divine love, rather than a disgrace of it. Agape lept off the pages of a book and entered the miracle of breath. Bird calls seemed to be full of divine love, and wind was agape sweeping by. Strawberries tasted richer, they became alive. Everything was singing, the world was harmonious. God became bliss, I finally understood the scripture that said that God is love. I never found agape in church, I still don’t see it in all the ways my family wishes I would. Agape for me became self-acceptance, authenticity, truth. I found agape in the corners of myself that were filled in self-hatred and shame. Mindfulness, meditation, shadow-work, the art of simply being led me to agape. And it’s a journey I’m still on, one I forget I’m on at times. But agape has made me gently, over time. Carefully. It’s become alive, in everything and everyone. I’m aware of a divine spark in me always. It’s my joy. It’s my sorrow. It’s the essence of my being. I’m alive.