There was a time when I thought I had to chase God. Run faster. Pray louder. Read more. Do better. But somewhere along my healing journey, I realized something different: God wasn’t asking me to chase Him. He was asking me to make room for Him.
To hold space. To slow down. To be still.
And let me tell you, that’s harder than it sounds when your life feels like it’s constantly unraveling. When trauma trains your nervous system to stay in survival mode, silence can feel like a threat. Stillness? Foreign. But holding space for the divine isn’t about being perfect; it’s about being present.
I had to learn that God shows up in quiet corners. Not always with thunder and fire, but sometimes with a whisper in the middle of my messy kitchen, or a gentle tug on my heart as I sat with tears I didn’t fully understand. I used to fill every hour, every thought, every breath with something, noise, distraction, hustle. But I was crowding out the One who could bring peace.
So I started making a room. Some mornings, I sit in silence before the world wakes up. Sometimes, I make a journal mess instead of hiding it.
Other times, I just cry and let God meet me in the softness of my surrender. And you know what? He always comes. Not because I earned it. But because He’s always been there, waiting for me to stop, breathe, and let Him in. Friend, if life feels heavy right now, don’t run harder.
Pause.
Make room.
God doesn’t need a perfect space, just an open one. And when you hold that space, even for a moment, you’ll find the divine is closer than you ever imagined.
