I’ve known this a long time but I realized just now – or as a matter of fact, deeply felt – that being with God is not necessarily being inside the edifice-church. God is in everything. Even the littlest of things. The blue skies and the cumulus clouds; birds chirping in the morning; the feel of the breeze in the afternoon; even the soft patter of drizzle on the skin.
He’s there even in the dark, sweat-soaked bar when I danced the night away and sang my lungs out. He’s there in my room, whenever I wait for the night sky turn to pale blue then golden yellow. God is there in my quiet musings, my constant questioning if there really is an earthly love that lasts. Even in my doubting and fear, He is there. God is present even when I was absent.
And I realized – or as a matter of fact, deeply felt – that it would always be the case.