Nearness to God Comes Not in Feeling but in Spirit and Truth

I’ve spent more of my life than I wish wondering about the truth of my relationship with God. I think every Christian asks these questions at some point, but the thoughts running through my brain have far too often been, “Am I really a believer?” “Do I actually trust and follow the God I claim I do?” “How do I know?” In particular, that last question haunts my thoughts every time I sin and a lot of times I don’t.

Twice when asking this question, I’ve been pointed to 2 Corinthians 13:5, “Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?—unless indeed you fail to meet the test!” Once I was pointed to the oft-quoted, “for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (Matthew 6:21). Apt but frustratingly vague; there’s nothing really tangible there, especially when we all have to battle wanting things other than God, good things, even. So, I approached this topic from a place of question: “how do I want something good, a gift from God, without idolizing it? Moreover, how do I know I’m close to a God who appears far away because the good gifts He gives as Father are not present?” And in this I don’t merely mean the things in my life changing the way I want them to but also peace, mercy, love, grace, joy.

In this, I discovered something uniquely mine to share with the world, which I hope to expand upon in-depth some day: forsakenness as closeness. Here’s a sneak peek.

The Failings of Emotional Christianity

Throughout my Christian life, I’ve heard whispers and shouts from mentors, friends, internet folks, and pastors telling me what it’s like to feel God and be awash in His presence. I can count on one finger the times I’ve “felt” God. This has always been frustrating to me in the same way 2 Corinthians 13:5 and Matthew 6:21 are in the silos they’re often presented in; it’s a vague, intangible statement. How do I know what I’m feeling is God? And no one can ever give a straight answer.

I think it’s because we’ve devolved God’s activity in our lives from truth to emotion. Rather than having our emotions as supplement or outpouring of truth, we’ve reversed our ideals where truth supplements, and is an outpouring of, our emotions. Maybe it’s just me; maybe I’m the broken or wrong one, but I don’t think so. Because the more of the truth of Scripture I uncover in this time of trouble, the more it is revealed to me by evidence how God is an ever-present help in times of trouble (Psalm 46:1). This, in turn, has overflowed to other aspects of love and truth.

I wouldn’t say I’m an emotional person; I’ve cried my fair share of times over death, love, hard times, and media, but I wouldn’t say I’m influenced to closeness by them, and I find it difficult to connect with people over sorrow, joy, etc. But I once had someone I love very dearly say to me that when I looked into her eyes, it was like I was looking into the depths of her soul, and she could not hide it from me. This is connection to me. When I felt closest to her it was because I could see into the deep things of who she was as a person; when I felt far away it was because aspects of her life and character were sequestered away from me as though she had locked pieces of herself behind a solid iron door.

As with all good things on this earth, we can find pieces of the truths of God in this if we dare to worship closely enough in both Spirit and Truth (John 4:24). Because as I’ve mentioned briefly before, perhaps this is my great flaw; perhaps, I am wrong. But I don’t think so; rather, I think it is one great affirmation of God’s goodness that His connection to me (to us) makes more sense than what I feel, that His goodness is present despite the fleetingly tangential emotions that flutter by truth, sharing briefly in its scent before they dash away again into limbo, waiting to return in time opportune.

The Truth of Nearness in Forsakenness

I bring all of this around to say something about nearness to God: I can’t recall a time in Scripture when someone said they “felt near to God.” The psalms, perhaps, come the closest to this kind of language, but it seems to me that feeling God’s presence is phrasing unique to the modern evangelical church—and if I had to bet, it founds its roots in the seeker-sensitive movement that has done an impressive job of destroying the ideologically true foundations of the Cornerstone for a faith of such shallow nature it is hardly faith at all. Feelings, it seems to me, are the beginnings of faith, for afterward, they must progress to solid, foundational truth lest the one relying on them is tossed like waves in a storm, believing whatever sways the heart the most in that moment (Ephesians 4:13-15).

I note this evidence in the New Testament most easily because it is here we see the emotions that drive conversion in the disciples, the Eunuch, and many others in Acts, and it is also here we see the truths that hold foundations for the martyrs stoned, beheaded, boiled in oil, exiled, perhaps crucified. And in that famous cry of Christ on the cross we see what I’m really getting at in Psalm 22.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from my deliverance and from my words of groaning?” (Psalm 22:1). Emotional distance is the cry here: weakness, sorrow, desolation, desperation. Verse 2 continues with a silent God; “I cry by day, but you do not answer, by night, yet I have no rest.” No one can argue that the psalmist, and that the cry of Jesus, was lamenting distance from the Father. Yet this is followed by the most powerful combat of emotions: “But you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel” (Psalm 22:3). In fact, this entire psalm is a case study of emotion combatted by truth, a feeling of forsakenness with acknowledgement of God’s goodness, closeness, and faithful love. Psalm 42 has also recently become a favorite cry of mine for the same reasons.

But because Jesus, specifically, shouts this lament, we can get an excellent view of what closeness to God is really like because, unlike every other person in Scripture, Jesus was as close as one could possibly be to God, yet He was forsaken by God. So closeness must not be dictated by feeling what Jesus was feeling as humanity’s sin was poured out on Him. Nor can it be determined by obedience because Jesus was perfectly obedient and still forsaken; furthermore because God will not leave nor forsake us despite our disobedience, we know that nearness cannot be changed because of our turning away in sin. Does this mean we should sin that grace may abound? No (Romans 6:1)!

Worship in Spirit and Truth, Seeking God’s Depths

So we have to go somewhere else to determine what nearness to God is, how can we know: John 4:24 is a perfect starting point; we need both Spirit and Truth, and this is why:

“But as it is written, What no eye has soon, no ear has heard, and no human heart has conceived—God has prepared these things for those who love him. Now God has revealed these things to us by the Spirit, since the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God. For who knows a person’s thoughts except his spirit within him? In the same way, no one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God. Now we have not received the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who comes from God, so that we may understand what has been freely given to us by God. We also speak these things, not in words taught by human wisdom, but in those taught by the Spirit, explaining spiritual things to spiritual people. But the person without the Spirit does not receive what comes from God’s Spirit, because it is foolishness to him; he is not able to understand it since it is evaluated spiritually. The spiritual person, however, can evaluate everything, and yet he himself cannot be evaluated by anyone. For who has known the Lord’s mind that he may instruct him? But we have the mind of Christ” (1 Corinthians 2:9-16).

Here we finally have something tangible. No human heart can conceive it; the unsaved cannot comprehend it. Our deceptive inner selves are confused and baffled; our hearts are deceived because only the Spirit of God can search out His depths and speak them to us spiritually. Spirit begets Truth, and so we know we are near. But we cannot rely on a voice speaking in our mind for our minds are yet untransformed by renewal (Romans 12:2). So the psalmists are helpful again here: “How I love your instruction! It is my meditation all day long. Your command makes me wiser than my enemies, for it is always with me” (Psalm 119:97-98). Note the structure here: the psalmist does not love God’s instruction and so meditate on it. Rather, he meditates on it; therefore, it is evidenced that he loves it. Furthermore, it is always with him.

Those humans closest to God in the Bible were not the most perfectly obedient to Him because only the Son managed that feat. Those closest to Him were the ones who meditated on His words day and night, who had it with them always to make them wise, even if they failed to employ the deep things of His nature that the Spirit with them was seeking out. David, Solomon, Elijah, Elisha, Jeremiah, Job, Paul, John. All imperfect men, yet all men who sought the deep things of God.

Nearness in Meditation, the Word as a Constant Companion

I started writing all this with the idea to say that forsakenness is the best way to determine closeness to God because you cannot feel forsaken by one you were never close to, and that’s true. Jesus could only cry His abandonment from the Father because He was, and is, one with the Father as the second person of the Godhead. The psalmist could only make the cries of lament because he was constantly meditating on the Scriptures and so knew the goodness of God and could tell the difference between it and what was happening at the time of lament. But it’s more than that feeling of forsakenness because some may never live a part of life that feels forsaken by God. Nearness is about how often, how deeply, how carefully you are seeking out the depths of God by His Spirit for His Truth. It’s whether His Word is a constant companion and whether you’re satisfied with what you know of Him or whether you always need to know more of His uncontainable presence.