If I Believe He Is Here

Our Shared Journey

I am not talking to myself, although I realize it may sometimes look that way.

I am talking to Jesus.

I may speak to Him about anything, at any time. Of course, I use wisdom about where I am and what I am doing. But underneath that ordinary consideration is a question I cannot get away from:

If Jesus is alive, and I believe He is alive, why would I live as though He were absent?

God is omnipresent. We say that readily enough.

Do I believe it?

Then He is right here as I write this.

I do not have to summon Him. I do not have to manufacture an atmosphere that persuades Him to come near. I can turn my attention toward the One who is already present.

“Lord, how do I explain this?”

Even that question can become part of our conversation.

Could He be helping me find the words? I believe He can. That does not mean everything I write is something God has said. My understanding needs correction, and my thoughts must be examined in the light of His Word.

But neither do I want to become so reluctant to acknowledge His involvement that I behave as though He has nothing to do with my ordinary life.

He is alive.

I believe Him.

I want my way of living to reflect that.

To someone watching from the outside, I may seem a mess. Here is a man speaking to Someone they cannot see, loving Someone they have never met, and arranging his life around a relationship they may not understand.

“Take him away to the funny farm!”

Well, let me explain what I mean.

I am not claiming that my natural eyes have begun seeing a figure standing beside me. These ordinary orbs of sight still do what they have always done. They report the physical world around me.

But physical sight is not the measure of everything that is real.

In my relationship with Christ, I have found an abiding love. As I have come to know His love, my confidence in Him has grown.

I have learned that I can bring Him things I once thought I had to carry alone. I can speak honestly. I can ask questions. I can acknowledge that I do not understand.

I can also be quiet and give my attention to Him.

Over time, that relationship changes what I notice.

I begin to recognize occasions for gratitude where I once saw only ordinary circumstances. I become more attentive to the needs of another person. His Word comes to bear on a decision, an attitude, or a response I might previously have overlooked.

I find myself recognizing His care in places where I had not thought to look.

When I say that I see Him everywhere, that is what I am describing.

I do not mean that everything around me is God. I mean that nothing in my life takes place beyond His presence, and that His creation continually gives me reasons to remember Him.

The familiar becomes an invitation to acknowledge the One I love.

“Lord, thank You.”

“Help me understand.”

“What would please You here?”

Those are ordinary words. Yet they express a remarkable reality: I am living my natural life in fellowship with the Living God.

That awareness has developed over time. I am still learning.

What I am calling spiritual eyesight has very little to do with these orbs of sight and a great deal to do with the perspective from which I understand my life.

If I regard my physical surroundings as the whole of reality, speaking to Jesus throughout the day may seem peculiar.

If I understand that I already belong to His eternal Kingdom, acknowledging Him becomes perfectly natural.

Why would I leave Him out of the conversation?

Why would I speak of His presence in church, then spend the rest of the week acting as though He were somewhere else?

Why would I profess that He loves me, yet hesitate to bring Him the ordinary things on my heart?

Knowing His love has increased my faith.

I am growing more confident in the One I am coming to know.

That confidence allows me to turn toward Him in the middle of an unfinished day, with unfinished work and an unfinished understanding of nearly everything.

I do not have to make an impressive speech.

“Jesus, I love You.”

He is here when I say it.

He was here before I remembered to say it.

And when I return to the ordinary task before me, I have no reason to suppose our fellowship has ended.

Perhaps that is where faith begins to change the texture of a day: when what I say I believe becomes part of how I actually live.

Jesus is alive.

God is present.

I am loved.

Now, how will I live the next few minutes in the light of that?

That has a great deal to do with your eternal perspective.

Speaking of that…

Perhaps it is time to consider changing your perspective.