It was the Sunday evening services at church that drew me close to God. The dark Alaskan winter nights and the warm glow of life and laughter and closeness that filled the sanctuary. I remember everyone singing, “We’re the People of God” and “The Love of God” and I would close my eyes, trying to memorize every feeling.
Sometimes I would fall asleep on the brown cushioned pews as Mama and Papa talked afterward. The conversation was always filled with laughter and Scripture and beauty. Church was the safest, most comfortable place in the world.
And then, as I grew, I found more and more places where I felt that same warmth and peace. At soup nights in the dorm, with all the Bible school students. At the Beachy’s for Wednesday night small group. At open gym nights at school. At the kitchen table every morning.
And then, finally, I had the same sense of comfort while reading my Bible, alone in my room.
Something clicked inside. I was sensing the presence of God.
For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. My heart faints within me!
Faith isn’t about feelings, by any means. But the sense of peace and belonging that comes when we acknowledge God’s place in our lives– it is something that only comes through true belief.
I think of the trials and heartache and pain that Job had come through, and the strong belief in God he must have carried to be able to hold fast and proclaim, “I know my Redeemer lives…” and I am quieted in awe.
God’s presence was there that day. It is here today.
I know, because I know Him. And someday, I believe, my eyes will see Him– just as Job’s did at the end of his trial.