Holy Ground Psalm 138:8 - Personal Blog of Trisha Rapley, Australian Author.

There are moments when love does not arrive as a feeling but as a place.

A sanctuary made of breath and nearness, where the body is not something to be escaped but something gently returned to. Where closeness feels reverent, and desire carries the hush of worship rather than urgency.

In those moments, love presses closer not to claim, not to consume, but to remain. It leans in the way a prayer leans, without force, without fear, certain only of its presence. Certain only that staying is more powerful than taking.

I have known loud affection, that demanded proof and performance, that mistook intensity for depthand urgency for devotion. Love that burned bright, but left ash in its wake. Love that touched my skin without ever truly seeing my soul.

But this, this is different. This is love that understands stillness. Love that does not rush the miracle. Love that waits for the heart to open on its own accord, as if patience itself were a form of respect.

There is something holy about being held without being hurried. About lips that do not take, but bless. About touch that does not pull you out of yourself, but gently draws you home. A closeness that feels less like possessionand more like recognition, as if the soul has whispered, Here you are, and the body has answered, I know.

In this closeness, heaven is not a distant promiseor a future reward. It is felt now, in the safety of intention, in the way care wraps itself around desireand refuses to cheapen it. It is felt when love does not pull you away from God, but somehow leads you nearer, as though tenderness itself were a form of prayer, and gentleness a kind of praise.

And yet, there is also waiting.

A quiet ache held without resentment.

A longing that does not demand answersor timelines.

I pray, and I wait, for the day to come againwhen our paths cross once more, not in striving, not in confusion, but in whatever form God deems right.

Until then, I hold the memory with open hands, not as something to cling to, but as something entrusted back to Him.

If love is real, it does not need chasing.

If it is holy, it will not be lost.

What is meant to return will do so gently, without forcing its way in.

Stars do not fall loudly. They arrive softly, lighting the dark without asking permission. So too does this kind of love, unannounced, unforced, quietly rearranging the sky within you, leaving wonder where there once was doubt, and peace where there once was striving.

And I think this is what my heart has always longed for: not passion that consumes, but presence that stays.

Not intensity that overwhelms, but intimacy that feels safe enough to kneel.

Not love that promises heaven someday, but love that honours God even in the waiting, even in the distance, even in the silence.

Because when love is pure, it does not distract from holiness; it reflects it.

It does not ask you to abandon yourself or betray your values for the sake of being chosen.

It chooses you with your values intact.

When two people meet each other with gentleness, truth, and reverence, the ground beneath them becomes sacredwhether they name it or not. And if they are meant to meet again, God will bring them backnot as they were, but as they need to be.

This is not love that consumes the soul.

This is love that shelters it.

This is not desire that leads astray.

This is desire surrendered, held with open hands, trusted to God, and therefore able to remain beautiful.

The Lord will vindicate me; your love, Lord, endures forever— do not abandon the works of your hands.

Psalm 138:8

Lord,

I place what I feel into your hands, the love, the memory, the waiting.

If it is meant to return, let it return whole and holy.

If it is meant to remain only a chapter, let it still bear fruit in me.

Teach me how to wait without hardening, to hope without striving, and to trust without fear.

Amen.

Holy Ground Psalm 138:8 - Personal Blog of Trisha Rapley, Australian Author.

Holy Ground Psalm 138:8 - Personal Blog of Trisha Rapley, Australian Author.