Finding God in Unexpected Places
Reading: Psalm 139:7-12
Devotional: After sitting with the darkness of Psalm 88, we turn to one of the most comforting truths in Scripture: there is nowhere we can go that God is not already there. Even in our deepest valleys, even when we feel completely alone, God's presence surrounds us. David declares, "If I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn... even there your hand will guide me.”
This psalm doesn't minimize our pain or rush us past our struggles. Instead, it reveals that God meets us in the very places we thought He had abandoned us. The darkness that feels overwhelming to us is as light to Him. When we can't sense His presence, He is still intimately acquainted with our ways, still holding us in His hand.
This truth echoes Paul's declaration in Romans 8:35-39 that nothing can separate us from God's love. Not trouble, hardship, persecution, or even our own feelings of abandonment. God's unfailing love (chesed)—His loyal, covenant faithfulness—remains constant even when our emotions fluctuate. Like Habakkuk, we can learn to rejoice in God even when the fig trees don't blossom and the fields produce no food, because our joy is rooted in His unchanging presence.
Reflection Question: How might your current struggle or season of difficulty actually be a place where you can encounter God's presence in a new way?
Action Step: Practice "contemplative lament" by spending time in prayer asking God to reveal His presence in your current struggles. Instead of praying for circumstances to change first, pray for eyes to see where God is already at work in your difficulty. Take 10 minutes each day this week to sit quietly and ask, "Lord, how are you present with me right now in this struggle?" Let this become a regular discipline of seeking God's nearness rather than His solutions.
Quote: "God's presence is not dependent on your ability to sense it. He is Emmanuel—God with us—even in our darkest moments." - Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son