The Lord walks with you!

I don’t know where you are as you read this—maybe in a quiet room, maybe in a noisy café, maybe sitting in your car before walking into something you’d rather avoid—but I sense this strongly:

You are not just stumbling your way through faith.

You are being drawn into friendship.

And I hear the heart of the Father saying over you:

“I walk with you more than you realize.

I am closer than you feel.

I am not just looking for followers—

I am forming friends.”

Jesus said to His disciples, “I have called you friends” (John 15:15). For years, I read that verse and thought, That’s beautiful—for the really spiritual people. The ones who pray long prayers, fast often, never seem to doubt, and always seem to know exactly what God is doing.

But I’ve become convinced of something very different:

Friendship with God is not reserved for the spiritual elite.

It is quietly forming in ordinary hearts—like yours—often before you even have language for it.

You may have noticed shifts in yourself that you can’t fully explain.

You’re drawn to Him differently.

You hear Him more softly, but more often.

You sense Him more in the day-to-day, not just in crisis.

That’s not imagination.

That’s movement.

And I believe the Lord is saying to you:

“You’re not just believing in Me from a distance.

You’re learning to walk with Me as a friend.

Let Me show you what I’ve already been doing in your heart.”

One of the first shifts He works in us is so gentle we almost miss it. It shows up in the way we come to Him.

For many of us, our early walk with God was mostly shaped by need—those moments when we were desperate, hurting, or unsure of what to do next. We came because something was broken. Something was urgent. And God, in His kindness, met us there (Psalm 34:18). He always does.

But somewhere along the way, something deeper begins to grow.

You start realizing that what draws you to Him is no longer just the urgency of a problem—it’s the beauty of His presence.

You find yourself praying even when nothing is falling apart.

You open your Bible not because you “have to,” but because you’re hungry (Jeremiah 29:13).

You sit quietly with Him, and somehow, that stillness feeds your soul in a way nothing else does.

Sometimes it’s as simple as this: a thought rises in your heart—

“Lord, I just want to be with You for a moment.”

No list. No bargaining. No “if You do this, I’ll do that.”

Just presence—the secret place Jesus spoke about, where your Father sees what is done in secret (Matthew 6:6).

That is not you trying to be a “better Christian.”

That is God awakening friendship inside you.

You begin to realize the peace you feel in His presence isn’t just something He hands to you—it’s who He is to you. Paul described it as a peace that “guards your heart and mind in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7).

And when that truth settles in, your relationship with God stops being a transaction and becomes a relationship. It becomes deeply personal.

You can hear this shift in the way people talk when it’s happening in them.

They’ll say things like:

• “I don’t know why, but lately I just want to be in the Word more.”

  
  
  
  

• “I find myself praying even when nothing is wrong.”

  
  
  
  

• “I feel drawn to Him in a way I can’t quite explain.”

  
  
  
  

And I can almost hear the Lord smiling, saying,

“You see? You’re not just coming to Me for what I do.

You’re coming to Me for who I am.

That’s friendship.”

Somewhere along the way, the question in your heart begins to shift.

It moves from:

“Lord, can You help me with this?”

to

“Lord, what’s on Your heart today?”

Not out of pressure or guilt, but out of love. Out of closeness. Out of a quiet desire to walk with Him, not just receive from Him.

As this deepening continues, another change begins to surface.

You become willing to let go of things that have taken up space in your heart—space God wants to fill.

Sometimes it’s a habit you’ve carried for years.

Sometimes it’s a fear that has quietly driven you.

Sometimes it’s a way of thinking, a way of reacting, or an identity built around past pain.

The Holy Spirit begins to put His finger on certain places in your life. Not harshly. Not with accusation. Just that quiet nudge:

“You don’t need to hold this so tightly anymore.”

Jesus said, “If anyone would come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Me” (Luke 9:23). That’s not Him calling you into misery; that’s Him calling you into freedom—into a life where nothing has a tighter grip on you than His love.

Instead of fighting Him, something in you starts to say,

“Okay, Lord… I’m willing.”

You may not even understand why He’s asking. You just know it’s time. Time to release that bitterness. Time to stop letting that insecurity define you. Time to step out of that pattern you’ve excused for years.

That “yes” inside you—however small—is huge.

That willingness is the soil where friendship grows.

God is not trying to strip you; He’s making room for you.

Room for more of His presence.

Room for greater freedom.

Room for you to become who you really are in Him.

And here’s the beautiful part: this is not just about becoming a “better Christian” or a closer friend. This is the Spirit doing what Romans 8 describes—conforming you to the image of His Son (Romans 8:29). You are not only learning to walk as a friend of God; you are also growing into your true identity as a son or daughter of God.

“For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God” (Romans 8:14).

“You received the Spirit of adoption, by whom we cry, ‘Abba, Father’” (Romans 8:15).

Friendship is often how God draws your heart close.

Sonship is where He anchors your identity.

You’re not trying to upgrade your spiritual performance.

You’re being fathered.

You’re being shaped.

You’re being molded into the likeness of Christ, from the inside out (2 Corinthians 3:18).

Sometimes what He leads you to release isn’t even sinful. It might be your need to control outcomes. Your constant fear of letting people down. The story that always ends with, “I’ll probably fail anyway.”

And I hear the Lord saying:

“Whatever you hand Me, I don’t crush—I redeem.

Whatever you surrender, I don’t waste—I transform.

You’re not just giving things up.

You’re giving Me room to be more real to you—

as your Friend and as your Father.”

As you open your hands, something beautiful begins to happen in how you see your everyday life too.

For a long time, many of us believed that God only really “showed up” in big moments: the powerful service, the dramatic answer, the miracle that makes a great testimony. But when friendship begins to form, you start noticing Him in quieter ways.

Jesus said, “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me” (John 10:27). He didn’t say, “My sheep sometimes get lucky.” He said, they hear My voice.

You begin to sense:

• A verse coming to mind at just the right moment.

  
  
  
  

• A gentle check inside: “Don’t send that message yet.”

  
  
  
  

• A calm settling on your heart before a conversation you used to dread.

  
  
  
  

• A tenderness replacing a reaction you would have excused in the past.

  
  
  
  

Those are not random.

Those are fingerprints.

I remember a moment like that very clearly.

I was sitting at a traffic light one day. Normally, I’m the first one to move the second the light turns green. I don’t hesitate—I’m just gone. But that day, as the light turned green, I felt this strange hesitation—just a quiet sense inside: “Wait.”

I wasn’t alone. My son Jonathan was in the vehicle with me, and we were in the middle of a very sensitive theological discussion—one of those conversations that shapes how you see God and His ways.

The light turned green, and everything in my normal driving pattern said, Go. But something in my spirit said, Stay.

So I did something very unlike me.

I sat there.

One second. Two. Three. Four.

And just then, a fully loaded, double-tandem gravel truck flew through the intersection, straight through the red light, right in front of us. If I had driven forward like I normally do, I would’ve been in that intersection. He would have hit me—and not just me, but both of us.

In that vehicle beside me was a young man who now pastors a very large church in Canada—a church I was one of the founding individuals in. I sometimes think about that moment and realize: it wasn’t just my life that was being protected. It was his future. His calling. His congregation. The people he would one day shepherd. In that car was a whole storyline of impact that God was quietly preserving with a three-second hesitation.

That wasn’t just “good instincts.”

That was God walking with us.

That was the protection that flows out of real relationship.

“He will command His angels concerning you, to guard you in all your ways” (Psalm 91:11).

And I believe the Lord speaks through moments like that and says:

“This is what friendship with Me looks like.

Not always dramatic visions.

Sometimes it is three extra seconds at a green light.

Sometimes it is a pause that saves multiple destinies.

Sometimes it is a nudge that quietly preserves a future you can’t yet see.”

The more this happens, the more you stop calling everything “coincidence.” You start saying, “No… that was Him. He was there. He was protecting. He was guiding.”

Friends don’t need earthquakes to recognize each other.

They know each other in the tone. In the timing. In the way the atmosphere shifts when the other person is present.

And God is saying:

“You thought you were bad at hearing Me.

But look at how you’ve been pausing.

Look at how you’ve been adjusting your steps.

Look at how you’ve sensed when something wasn’t right.

That’s not distance. That’s familiarity.

That’s friendship growing.”

As this awareness grows, another quiet transformation begins inside you.

Your heart starts to soften into the things that matter to Him.

You notice your reactions changing.

Where you would’ve snapped, you take a breath.

Where you would’ve written someone off, you feel compassion instead.

Where you would’ve insisted on being right, you now care more about loving well (John 13:34–35).

You find yourself choosing grace over irritation.

You pause before sending that harsh reply.

You catch yourself thinking, “I don’t want to speak like that anymore. That’s not who I’m becoming.”

This is not about you trying harder to be nice.

This is the heart of God slowly shaping yours.

At the same time, you become more aware of the things that dim His work in you. Certain environments, attitudes, or habits that once felt normal now feel off. Not because God is scolding you, but because they cloud what He’s doing in your heart.

It’s like suddenly seeing a window that’s been smudged for years. You didn’t notice it before, but now that you see it, you can’t unsee it. You realize how much more clearly the light shines when it’s clean.

And I hear the Lord saying:

“You’re not avoiding these things because you’re afraid of Me.

You’re avoiding them because you value what we have.

You treasure the nearness.

You protect the peace.

That’s what friends do.”

This is part of what it means to be transformed into the image of Christ—to love what He loves, to step away from what harms, to let His nature shape your nature (Romans 8:29; Ephesians 5:1–2).

This whole journey deepens in one more powerful way: you begin to trust His leading even when He doesn’t explain all the details.

There were times in your life when uncertainty used to send you into a spiral. If God didn’t make everything clear, you felt unsafe. You wanted a full map, clear timing, visible guarantees.

But slowly, in the quiet work of relationship, that begins to change.

You still have questions. You still feel the tension sometimes. But now, something in you has learned to say:

“Lord, I don’t see everything… but I trust You.”

I remember times of standing in faith right in the middle of the storm—when nothing made sense and nothing around me was changing. I had prayed. I had done all I knew to do. Yet the situation remained. And then, just when I least expected it, God’s answer came—often in a way I never would’ve scripted.

Not always fast.

Not always neat.

But precise. Faithful. On time in a way I could only see in hindsight.

And I’ve learned this: being a friend of God doesn’t mean you avoid those kinds of seasons. It means you walk through them with Him (Psalm 23:4). You begin to see that the very places that stretch you beyond your natural understanding are often the places He is proving His friendship with you.

For me, one of those “Abraham moments” has literally looked like leaving my own land and stepping into another. I’m a Canadian, and humanly speaking, it would have made the most sense to stay where everything was familiar—systems I understood, culture I knew, a life that was already built. And yet, over time, the Spirit of the Lord began to lead me in a very specific direction: open doors, divine connections, invitations, and a pull in my spirit I couldn’t shake.

That’s how I ended up in Bulgaria.

Not because I sat down one day and said, “Let’s pick a random country and start over,” but because step by step, the Lord kept confirming, “This is the way I’m leading you.” It didn’t come with a detailed blueprint. It came with opportunities I couldn’t have orchestrated, relationships I couldn’t have arranged, and a peace that didn’t match how risky it looked on paper.

I didn’t fully know what it would look like. I didn’t have all the outcomes planned. But I had that same kind of nudge Abraham had—a sense of, “Go to the land I will show you” (Genesis 12:1). And like Abraham, I had to move before I had total clarity. Looking back, I can see it so clearly now: it wasn’t just geography that was changing. God was using the journey to deepen friendship and to anchor identity. He was saying, “Walk with Me, and you’ll see what I see.”

The writer of Hebrews said that Abraham “obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going” (Hebrews 11:8). James calls him “the friend of God” (James 2:23). Friends trust the heart of the One leading—even when the route is unclear.

That pattern shows up in your life more than you realize. God leads you along paths you don’t fully understand at the time, and when you look back, you see: “Only a Friend who truly knows me and loves me could have led me like that.”

You begin to learn that His silence is not absence.

His delay is not rejection.

His mystery is not distance.

Often, those quiet, in-between seasons where nothing seems to make sense become some of the most sacred parts of your journey—because that’s where your prayer shifts from:

“Lord, explain this to me,”

to

“Lord, stay with me in this.”

And He does.

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with My eye upon you” (Psalm 32:8).

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart… and He will direct your paths” (Proverbs 3:5–6).

Step by step, your confidence moves from your ability to understand the plan to your trust in the One who holds it. You worry less. You surrender quicker. You don’t need every answer up front anymore. You just need His presence—and that becomes enough.

As I sit with all of this, I sense the Father’s heart leaning toward you:

“You are not behind.

You are not failing Me.

You are not an average believer I merely tolerate.

I have been walking with you.

I have been shaping you quietly.

I have been calling you closer—

not as a burden, but as a joy.”

Those subtle shifts in you—

• Wanting His presence more than just His answers

  
  
  
  

• Becoming willing to let some things go

  
  
  
  

• Noticing Him in the ordinary

  
  
  
  

• Choosing what protects His work in your heart

  
  
  
  

• Trusting Him without having all the details

  
  
  
  

—those are not random spiritual moods.

They are the evidence that faith is turning into fellowship.

Belief is maturing into closeness.

You are not only becoming a friend of God;

You are also being led into sonship—learning to live as a true son or daughter, shaped into the likeness of Christ.

Friendship is the doorway.

Sonship is the home you were always meant to live in.

This may be where the journey begins, but it is not where it ends.

And over your life, I hear Jesus’ words again:

“I have called you friends” (John 15:15).

Not someday.

Not when you finally “arrive.”

But now—right in the middle of your process.

So as you finish reading this, let this be your simple response:

“Lord, thank You that You walk with me.

I want to walk with You—

as Your friend,

as Your son,

as Your daughter.”

Because whether you feel it or not,

God walks with you.

And step by step, you are becoming His friend.

Much love!