God is someone you go with and not to

A few years ago, I fell in love with trail running. When people ask me why I prefer running on the trails over running on the road, I often tell them I'm more likely to have a spiritual experience on the trails.

For a long time I've presumed most of that experience is rooted in being reconnected with nature. The trees surrounding me, the birds singing in them, the soil shifting beneath my feet - I guess it's always felt like a call to some distant yet gentle past.

I guess the woods have felt like a place where God could spend more time telling me the meaning of life instead of spending all of his time trying to rescue me from it. Like maybe God and I needed a special place for him to do his most meaningful work with me.

Lately, I've come to better understand God doesn't need me to go to a special place to experience him. He simply needs me to believe a little stronger that he's someone I go with, and not something I go to.

For the past six weeks, life has gotten quieter for me. Not having a lot of the things to draw me in a thousand different directions will do that I suppose. In many ways, and most noticeably in these quiet morning times, I feel God's presence stronger than ever.

I'm not hurriedly trying to read or write something before I have to race off to work. There aren't 377 to-do lists hanging over my head, few of which ever have "hang out with God" on them. Sure, in many ways life is more challenging, but in many ways it's come with unexpected comfort.

Many days I've felt like I'm in the woods when I'm not in the woods.

This has me wondering if maybe quiet is this special place for me and God.

Henri Nouwen says, "God does not shout, scream or push. The spirit of God is soft and gentle like a small voice or a light breeze."

God is not going to shout above the noise I create or allow in my life. When I was destroying my life with alcohol and compulsive gambling, never once did God try to scream me straight. He always just waited within the darkness of the inevitable hangover to show up and whisper love and encouragement. He refused to scream his way into my life or push alcohol out of it.

In the midst of a busy two-month work project, when I gave that project 100% of my attention - thinking God was excitedly waiting to see the final product without any desire to be a part of the product - God never once barged in and said enough is enough. He just sat quietly and lovingly in the corner of my office whispering prayers over me. I suppose always with a sort of longing they were with me and not over me.

Lately, I've been reflecting on just how often I see God as the other end of this whole life thing we're doing. How often I see God as the goal, not the objective. I've realized the noise in my life isn't a distraction from God - God's there - he just refused to scream over it.

I hear God asking me, are you walking this path with the hopes of giving me a big hug at the end of it, or are you walking it within the beauty of knowing I'm hugging you all along the way.

I've heard him asking, is the noise you've been chasing and allowing the path to me. Or - am I the path to me.

That's a hard question to ask. But I'm sure the answer can only be heard in a soft voice, in the midst of a gentle and light breeze.