Have you ever sat down to read your Bible, all ready to connect with God, and… nothing?
I mean nothing.
You’re sitting there, trying your best to stay focused, flipping through notes, rereading passages, maybe even pulling out a video or commentary to help it all click. But no matter what you do, it feels like the words are just… words.
It’s frustrating, isn’t it? Like, what am I missing here?
That was me this morning. I had my water, my Bible, my favorite pens—everything I needed for a good, solid study session. I prayed for guidance, flipped to the passage I had planned, and dove in.
And yet, after an hour, there was nothing.
Not one word tugged at my heart, not a single verse or idea jumped off the page. I sat there, waiting for that spark, that moment where God would nudge me and say, “This is for you.”
But nope. Nothing came.
Eventually, I closed my Bible with a sigh, feeling just a little defeated, and went about getting ready for the day.
And then—while I was standing there, brushing my hair—this memory came out of nowhere.
It was me and my girls, standing at the top of our stairs worshipping at the family computer during one of the hardest seasons of our lives. Everything felt absolutely chaotic and uncertain, but during that time, we clung to a single song like a lifeline: Here’s My Heart by Casting Crowns.
I could still hear it in my head. At the beginning of the music video, Mark Hall shares a wisdom that is so simple, yet so profound:
"We don’t have to come to God like somebody else. We come to Him like we are. And a lot of times, that means I start my prayer time with, ‘God, show me my heart. Show me where I am. Show me truth about myself so I know how to follow You.’"
As those words replayed in my mind, it hit me. The prompting, impression, and or lesson I had been waiting for all morning.
How Big Is Your God?
Whoa. That question stopped me right in my tracks.
I wasn’t ready for it. Honestly, I still don’t know if I am ready for it now. The question itself seems insurmountable.
But here's the thing...
Growing up, my mom made sure we were in church every single Sunday—holidays, vacations, rain or shine. And yet, after all these years, I’m not sure I have ever really stopped and asked myself the question, How big is my God?
You’d think I’d have it figured out by now. But the truth is, I don’t.
And maybe that’s the point.
As I prayed at the end of 2024, about the direction that God wanted my focus to be in the new year the words that so easily jumped out to me from the Bible were these: Come & See.
It feels like God is calling me to know Him in a new way and challenge how I’ve always seen Him. If I want to truly know Him then I need to answer the invitation and action words to "come & see".
So often, it feels like I was taught that I was supposed to “graduate” from the basics of my faith because somehow the message I felt I was taught is that prayer, worship, and Bible study are just the kid stuff, and at some point, we’re supposed to move on to deeper, more advanced things.
But the question it leaves me asking myself is- what if the basics are actually the deepest, most transformative things of all?
Five years ago, when my whole world fell apart I went searching to find a testimony and trust for God like I saw in Mark Hall. I wanted to find the same assurance and unshakable conviction that He had. And the truth that I found then was simple:
God doesn’t ask us to come to Him as someone we’re not. He doesn’t want a performance, a checklist, or some perfectly polished version of ourselves that come seeking Him because we have become perfected and are worthy enough to speak with Him.
He just wants us.
The real us. The messy, searching, broken, lost, and still-figuring-it-out version.
And maybe that’s what faith really looks like. Not always having the answers but showing up anyway. Trusting that the simple act of sitting with Him—whether we feel the spark or not—is enough.
Because intimacy with God isn’t about doing it “right.” It’s about being real and vulnerable and broken and being willing to let God pick up the pieces and put them back together.
