nearness
"How confident are you of God's presence in your daily life?" I read that question this morning in a few moments of quiet time. I read it lightly, glancingly, because the answer in my mind was bold. Quick. "100%." The first wave. A true enough answer. I know He's present. I'm confident in that knowledge. The second wave came just as quickly. But its force was much heavier than I expected. "So confident," I wrote, "it scares me." Wait, what? "So confident that I forget His nearness." Then, after a moment where the words I wrote became the words I felt, I understood. I know that He is present. I mean, His name is "I AM." Present tense. Presence is knowledge. It's the acknowledgement of other people being in the waiting room at the doctor's office. But presence often doesn't make eye-contact. It doesn't strike up conversation. It puts space between you and them. It picks up a magazine