I’ve always had a kind of fascination with words, and passion has been one of my favorites for a long time. Mysteriously, its very sound can evoke its meaning—bringing profound emotion to our minds and hearts. When we hear it, we’re bound to liken it to others, such as ardor, desire, and love. We might conjure our own personal sense of what it means to be alive, or imagine that one thing which we could never live without.
Passion can be a very cathartic word, and the mystery within it only deepens when we realize its hidden value. I say hidden because we might not think of it too often—the way in which passion is synonymous with suffering. More than likely, when we think of it this way, there is only one person—and one unconscionable event—with which we are associating it. I think it’s because no one else in the history of anything has ever felt passion like He has. Passion so strong, so deep, and so intense that it could endure anything for the sake of its muse—the insanity of such a thing should move us! It should haunt our dreams until it lives in us as well, our passion for Him ever nourished by His for us.