Tag Archives: Intimacy with God

Intimacy with God

Catching the Face of God

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Worship, Surrender, and Holy Longing

Beloved, there comes a time when the soul cannot be satisfied by blessings, accomplishments, or even answered prayers. A deeper hunger rises—a holy ache to see His face. Not just to know about Him, not just to work for Him, but to draw near, to dwell, to gaze. This cry does not come from the casual heart. It comes from those who have been awakened—who have tasted His nearness and now can live for nothing less.

This is what it means to be truly ready: “I come to You open, God. I am ready.” It is the heart posture of one who lays down every right, every title, every possession. Not just sin, but even the good and noble things that still get in the way. “Take what doesn’t belong,” we whisper, because we know—only the empty can be filled.

So we climb the mountain, like Moses once did—not to impress others, but because we cannot lead our homes, our churches, or even ourselves without His presence. It is not strategy we need, but glory. Not answers, but His voice. And when we reach the summit, we do not ask for help first—we ask for Him: “Show me Your glory.”

To seek His face is to enter into the very reason we were created. This longing burns in every soul, whether we recognize it or not. It is why we weep when worship gets quiet. It is why the world cannot satisfy. It is why we wake in the night with tears. God is calling. The whisper of eternity echoes within: “Seek My face.”

Those who answer will find that He does not come in the whirlwind or the earthquake first. He often comes in the stillness, when the songs stop, and silence settles. He speaks when we finally stop trying to perform and simply become still enough to hear. And when we do hear, we must not delay. Obedience cannot wait. For every moment we hesitate, the noise of this world rises again to drown out His voice.

This kind of pursuit always bears fruit beyond ourselves. When we see Him, we begin to carry Him. Our lives shift. Our conversations change. Our prayers become bolder, our tears more honest, our love more fierce. People around us begin to hunger, because we’ve been with Him. To seek His face is to carry His fire into every place He sends us.

But this fire must be tended with care. The one who seeks Him must also learn to walk with Him. He does not come just to overwhelm us, but to train us. He speaks wisdom and correction to those who linger. He reshapes our minds, softens our hearts, and teaches us again how to worship—not with noise, but with nearness. Not with striving, but with surrender.

Worship is not a genre. It is a lifestyle of laid-down love. It is the altar we become, not the song we sing. He teaches us how to live close—how to abide. He walks us through the valleys of disappointment and fear, and teaches us to trust Him there. He washes our feet when we feel unworthy. He carries us when we grow weary. And in every moment, He says, “Look at Me.”

The one who sees His face becomes a mirror of it. Not in glory alone, but in love, in compassion, in truth. His character begins to form in us—not just for our sake, but for the sake of a world stumbling in the dark. If we have truly seen Him, we cannot stay silent. We must become a voice in the wilderness, calling others to behold the Lamb.

Yet we do not call others to a vision we ourselves have not seen. So we return again to that quiet place. We say again, “Teach me how to worship You. Take me deeper. Speak to me again.” We hold everything loosely, so that we may hold Him tightly. And we find that the more we surrender, the more He entrusts to us—authority, anointing, intimacy.

So, come. Come up the mountain again. Bring your questions, your weariness, your hunger. But above all, bring your heart. Bring your empty hands. Let your one desire be this: “Let me catch You and see Your face.” And when He comes—and He will—you will be undone. And you will never be the same.

I sought Your face in silence deep,
Where lesser treasures fall away.
You met me not with words to keep,
But with a glance that made me stay.
You whispered love, You burned my fear,
And called me near with holy flame.
So now I live to make You known,
And carry fire in Your name.

Prayer

Abba, I come to You with open hands, laid bare and hungry. I do not seek what You give—I seek who You are. Strip away all that hinders, all that distracts, all that clings to my soul but does not belong. Teach me to worship in truth, to listen without resistance, and to obey without delay. Let me behold You and be changed. Let me carry Your voice, Your wisdom, Your mercy, and Your fire. In the name of Yeshua, I say: I am ready. Come and be seen through me. Amen.

⸻

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The Hidden Manna and the White Stone

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“To him who overcomes [the world through believing that Jesus is the Son of God], to him I will give [the privilege of eating] some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone with a new name engraved on the stone which no one knows except the one who receives it.” — Revelation 2:17 (AMP)

Beloved, hear the voice of the One who walks among the lampstands. His promise is not for the casual, but for the conqueror—for the one who resists the corruption of the world by clinging to the Son of God. Not by strength, but by belief. Not by force, but by faith. And to the overcomer, God offers something precious—hidden manna and a white stone with a name etched by His own hand.

The hidden manna is not the bread of the wilderness, which fell with the dew and perished with the sun. This is the heavenly bread of fellowship—the nourishment of divine intimacy. It is the portion prepared in secret, reserved for those who endure in secret. Those who have laid down reputation, surrendered comfort, and waited on God in the unseen place. Yeshua is that bread. And the overcomer feasts on more of Him.

This manna is not for public consumption. It is the meal between the Bridegroom and the Bride, a love feast whispered in the inner courts of the Spirit. He gives it not to the loud, not to the famous, but to the faithful.

Then He gives something even more mysterious: a white stone, pure and unblemished, a token of approval. In ancient courts, a white stone signified acquittal. In the games, it symbolized victory. But here, it is more than innocence or triumph—it is intimacy. On this stone is a new name, known only to the one who receives it. No other voice may speak it. No other eye may see it. It is the name you will wear in the marriage supper of the Lamb, a name that speaks to who you truly are in His eyes.

Beloved, do you long to know what He calls you when no one else is listening? He has a name for you that is not stained by your past or bound by your weakness. It is not the name given by man, nor the one shaped by your failures. It is the name He wrote for you in love before the world began.

But the stone is not handed to the idle. It is given to the one who overcomes.

And what does it mean to overcome?

It is not to live without struggle. It is not to be free of temptation. It is not to walk in the applause of men.

To overcome is to believe—truly believe—that Yeshua is the Son of God, and to let that belief become your anchor, your breath, your life. When all around you rages with confusion, compromise, and convenience, the overcomer clings to the Son. When voices call you to blend in, you choose instead to burn.

The hidden manna is for those who are not satisfied with surface-level faith. The white stone is for those who have denied themselves, taken up their cross, and followed the Lamb wherever He goes.

You call me by the name no other knows,
Not “sinner,” not “stranger,” not “wandering soul.”
You speak and I become what You alone see,
A son, a flame, a bride made ready.
Feed me with the manna hidden in Your hand,
Give me the stone that speaks of love’s command.
I am not forgotten—I am named by Thee,
Carved in eternity, held in intimacy.

Let this word steady your heart, dear one. If you are tired of being misunderstood, wearied by rejection, or tempted by the easy road—remember this: He sees, He knows, and He will reward. When the world forgets your labor, when even the Church misunderstands your fire, He will feed you in secret and name you in love.

Overcome.

Wait.

Believe.

Receive.

Prayer

Father, we long for the hidden manna—for more of Your Son, the Bread of Heaven. Feed us with what cannot be purchased. Satisfy us in the secret place. Give us grace to endure, to overcome, and to believe when the world pulls at us. We ask for the white stone—not for our glory, but to hear You whisper the name You gave us before time began. We are Yours. Strengthen us to walk worthy until the end. In Yeshua’s name, Amen.

See Also

Understanding the Hidden Manna and the White Stone

The promises of Revelation 2:17 are steeped in sacred mystery, yet each element carries deep biblical and historical resonance. The hidden manna recalls Exodus 16:32–34, where a portion of manna was placed before the Ark as a testimony. Jewish tradition taught that a golden pot of manna was hidden when the Temple was destroyed, and some believed it would be revealed again in the Messianic age (cf. 2 Maccabees 2:4–8). Thus, Yeshua’s promise is not merely metaphorical—it speaks of divine nourishment preserved for the faithful in the age to come.

The white stone has layered meanings in the Greco-Roman context of the early churches. White stones were used:

  • As tokens of acquittal in courts (a black stone meant condemnation),
  • As symbols of victory in athletic contests, granting access to celebratory feasts,
  • And as personal invitation markers, sometimes inscribed with the guest’s name for elite banquets.

In each case, the stone represents acceptance, identity, and access—now reimagined by Yeshua as an emblem of intimate relationship with Him. The new name inscribed on it echoes Isaiah 62:2 and Revelation 3:12, affirming that God Himself names His beloved, not by what they were, but by who they are in Him.

Encountering God, Visions

God’s Love Revealed on the Mount of Transfiguration

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Matthew 17:1–8 (AMP)

Beloved, if only we could hear the voice of the Father calling our name and singing love songs over us. The ache for identity, the hunger for belonging, the thirst to be known—all of it would be satisfied in one holy moment if our ears were tuned to heaven. And yet, that voice has spoken. It still speaks. On a high mountain bathed in light, God did not merely reveal glory—God told us He loves us.

The Transfiguration of Yeshua was not just a demonstration of divine power—it was the unveiling of divine affection. The Father’s voice did not thunder out commands or declarations of wrath. It sang. It affirmed. It invited. “This is My beloved Son, with whom I am well-pleased and delighted! Listen to Him!” (Matthew 17:5 AMP). These words echo with the joy of a Father who delights in His Son—and in all who are found in Him.

Yeshua brings Peter, James, and John up the mountain. Suddenly, the veil between earth and heaven lifts. His face shines like the sun, His garments radiate with holy light, and Moses and Elijah appear—representing the Law and the Prophets, both now converging in the One who fulfills them all. But even more powerful than what they see is what they hear.

While Peter speaks—still trying to manage glory—the Father interrupts from a bright cloud. He does not instruct them to build, sacrifice, or prove themselves. He says, “This is My beloved Son… Listen to Him.” This is the Father telling us what matters most. Not systems. Not striving. His Son. His love. His voice.

This is God telling us He loves us—by showing us the Son and bidding us to listen. His words are not sterile affirmations; they are love songs sung across the heavens. Just as Zephaniah prophesied:

“The Lord your God is in your midst… He will rejoice over you with joy… He will be quiet in His love… He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy.” (Zephaniah 3:17 AMP)

Do you hear it? The Father rejoicing—singing—over His people. Not with rebuke. Not with shame. But with joy. Just as He delighted in Yeshua before the disciples’ eyes, He delights in all who are hidden in Him. When the Father calls Yeshua “beloved,” He is opening the door for you and me to be beloved, too.

When the disciples fall in fear, Yeshua comes and touches them. He says, “Get up, and do not be afraid.” (Matthew 17:7 AMP). This is what love does. It lifts. It comforts. It silences fear. The One who shines with divine glory also stoops low to touch trembling hearts. He is the voice of the Father’s love made flesh.

And then they look up—and see no one but Jesus alone. This is the destination of love: all other voices, all other fears, all other distractions fade away. Only Yeshua remains. Only love remains. Because in Him, the fullness of the Father’s heart has been revealed.

He told us this long ago:

“You are precious in My sight… and I love you.” (Isaiah 43:4 AMP)

And again:

“I have loved you with an everlasting love;
Therefore I have drawn you with lovingkindness.” (Jeremiah 31:3 AMP)

All of Scripture is God saying, “I love you.” But here, on the mountain, He says it by pointing to His Son—by inviting us to listen to Him, follow Him, and be found in Him.

And in case you still wonder if that voice could ever call your name, hear this:

“I am the good shepherd, and I know My own, and My own know Me… and I lay down My life for the sheep.” (John 10:14–15 NASB)

“My sheep listen to My voice… and they follow Me.” (John 10:27)

The voice that spoke from the cloud on that mountain is the same voice that now calls you by name. The same voice that sang over Yeshua now sings over you. Not because you are perfect. But because you are His.

Let the striving cease. Let the fear be silenced. Let every other name fade.

Only Jesus.
Only love.
Only the voice that calls you “Beloved.”

The heavens thundered, not with wrath but grace,
Your voice sang joy across time and space.
And in Your gaze, we found our name,
Beloved, known, forever the same.

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Prayer:

Abba Father, let us hear Your voice again. Let every barrier, every lie, and every fear be silenced by the sound of Your delight. Thank You for revealing Your heart through Yeshua. Thank You for calling Him beloved—and through Him, calling us Your children. Sing over us until our hearts believe it. Let us rise, unafraid, with Jesus alone in view. And may our ears never stop listening for the song You are still singing. In Yeshua’s name, amen.

The King is coming, not in judgement for believers, but with love
When the Father sees you coming home, He doesn’t wait on the porch—He runs to embrace you. There is no place better. 🕊️

Vision:

A Vision: Called by Name and Held in Love

(in the style of Revelation)

Then I looked, and behold—a door standing open in the heavens. And the voice I had heard before, like the sound of many waters, called to me again, saying, “Come up here, beloved one, for I have longed for this hour.”

And immediately, I was in the Spirit—and I saw a vast throne, high and lifted up, and around it were storms of sapphire and emerald light. Lightning laced the sky like veins of glory, and thunder rolled like deep laughter through the foundations of the heavens.

Yet in the midst of all majesty, I saw a Lamb standing, radiant and slain, and He smiled at me. And then I heard the voice of the Ancient of Days, the Father of spirits, the One whose robe fills all eternity, saying: “Call him by name.”

And my name—yes, my name—was spoken aloud. Not with judgment, not in wrath, but in joy. It was like the song of a thousand rivers flowing into one—full, rushing, unmistakable. Every syllable dripped with affection. Every sound thundered with kindness. I felt it in my bones, as if my very soul had been waiting forever to be called just like that.

And then—O wonder of wonders—the King rose from His throne, and the cherubim fell silent. The song of the twenty-four elders paused. And He, the Father of Lights, opened His arms wide and said, “Come to Me, My child.”

With trembling knees, I drew near. But before I could fall before Him, He knelt down, and with hands as vast as galaxies yet gentle as morning mist, He lifted me. He gathered me to Himself, as a father lifts his little one after a long journey.

I was seated in His lap—yes, the lap of El Shaddai—and He held me close to His chest. His breath was like warm wind after rain, filled with the fragrance of myrrh and cedar and joy. I smelled the sweetness of heaven—honey and fire, incense and wildflowers from Eden’s garden.

And then He began to sing.

His voice wrapped around me like a weighted blanket of glory. The melody rose and fell like waves of peace. I felt each note in my skin, like sunlight on closed eyelids. His song had no beginning and no end—it was the music of forever, and it was for me.

He sang of when He formed me in the womb, how He traced every line of my face with delight. He sang of the days I wept and didn’t know He wept too. He sang of the battles I thought I lost and how His angels were guarding me the whole time. He sang of my future—full of purpose, full of presence, full of Him.

And I wept.

But He wiped every tear with His own hand, whispering, “I catch every one. I sing over every scar.”

As He sang, my eyelids grew heavy, not from sorrow, but from perfect rest. The kind of rest that only love can bring. The kind of sleep that Adam knew before the world was wounded. I rested my head against His chest and heard the rhythm of eternity—His heartbeat, steady and strong. I heard it call again: “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

The stars danced above me, and angels hushed their praises to listen.

And I, called by name, held in glory, fell asleep in the lap of God, cradled by the song of the Father.

Forever safe.
Forever home.
Forever loved.

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Prayers

Let the Oil Flow: A Cry for Radical Transformation

Lord of Hosts, El Shaddai, You are holy and faithful. I come before You broken yet hopeful, asking for radical heart transformation; let the oil flow. “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10, NASB). Strip away the sin that clings so closely, burn every impurity, and breathe new life into the ashes. “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you” (Ezekiel 36:26, NASB).

By Your Spirit grant strength, self-control, and perseverance so that I may run to win; let the oil flow. “Since we have so great a cloud of witnesses… let us run with endurance the race set before us” (Hebrews 12:1, NASB). Quench my thirst with living water—“whoever drinks of the water that I will give him shall never thirst” (John 4:14, NASB). Saturate the parched ground of my soul until every root drinks deep of Your grace. You empower the weak and renew the weary, and I trust You to finish what You have begun.

Do not allow my past or present failures to silence the testimony of Your love; let the oil flow. Where the adversary plotted harm, You are the Redeemer who turns it to good. “God causes all things to work together for good to those who love Him” (Romans 8:28, NASB). Make every scar a signpost of mercy and every weakness a doorway for Your strength. Send fresh anointing so that my words and deeds draw the lost to Yeshua.

Teach me to live as continual prayer, breathing praise with every heartbeat. You are the One who calls and the One who completes—“Faithful is He who calls you, and He also will bring it to pass” (1 Thessalonians 5:24, NASB). Less of me, more of You; flood every corner of my life until only Your light remains. In the mighty name of Yeshua, let the oil flow. Amen.

Tongues

Tongues for Personal Edification 

The Believer’s Prayer Language

Unlocking the Mystery: The Four Kinds of Tongues in the Bible – Part 2

The Bible reveals that the Holy Spirit gives believers a powerful, intimate gift known as the prayer language of tongues. Unlike the tongues at Pentecost meant for public witness, this kind of tongue is personal — a way for the believer to speak directly to God beyond the limits of human words.

“For one who speaks in a tongue does not speak to people, but to God; for no one understands, but in his spirit he speaks mysteries.” (1 Corinthians 14:2, NASB)

The prayer language of tongues is deeply personal, strengthening the believer’s inner life and drawing them into closer fellowship with God. It bypasses human intellect and touches the depths of the spirit, allowing communion that words alone cannot express.

What Is the Prayer Language of Tongues?

The Apostle Paul makes a vital distinction between public tongues and private tongues. Public tongues require interpretation for the edification of the Church. Private tongues — the prayer language — are directed to God and serve to edify the individual.

“One who speaks in a tongue edifies himself; but one who prophesies edifies the church.” (1 Corinthians 14:4, NASB)

This kind of praying is not merely speaking into the air. It is the spirit praying. The mind may not comprehend, but the spirit is fully engaged with God.

“For if I pray in a tongue, my spirit prays, but my mind is unproductive.” (1 Corinthians 14:14, NASB)

Why the Prayer Language Matters

The prayer language is a gift of empowerment, renewal, and refreshing.

Paul says:

“I thank God, I speak in tongues more than you all;” (1 Corinthians 14:18, NASB)

If Paul, with all his revelation and experience, valued praying in tongues highly, so should we.

The prayer language:

  • Strengthens the believer’s spirit.
  • Builds endurance in prayer when words fail.
  • Deepens intimacy with God.
  • Bypasses fleshly limitations and distractions.

When words fail, the spirit continues to commune with God. This is prayer beyond human understanding — a direct line of communication fueled by the Holy Spirit.

Renewed Strength through Prayer Language

A woman facing a serious health crisis found herself unable to pray in her native language due to exhaustion and fear. Leaning into her prayer language, she would spend hours simply allowing her spirit to pray in tongues. She later testified that during those times, she felt the presence of the Holy Spirit wrap around her like a blanket, giving her peace and even physical strength that doctors could not explain. Though her circumstances did not immediately change, her heart did — filled with boldness and calm trust in God.

Deep Calls to Deep

Imagine standing at the edge of a vast ocean. You can only describe the surface, but there’s a depth underneath that words cannot capture. So it is when we pray in the spirit: “Deep calls to deep at the sound of Your waterfalls…” (Psalm 42:7, NASB). Our spirits connect with God’s Spirit beyond what human language can reach.

A breathtaking sunset blankets the city in color, reminding us that even the busiest days end with God’s masterpiece.

Self-Examination Questions

  • Am I willing to trust the Holy Spirit beyond my understanding?
  • Have I asked God to fill me with His Spirit and release the prayer language in my life?
  • Am I cultivating personal time in prayer that allows my spirit to commune with God unhindered?

Praying in the Spirit Daily

The prayer language is a beautiful, Spirit-given gift, not reserved for the “super spiritual,” but available to every believer who seeks the fullness of the Spirit. It strengthens, edifies, and draws us nearer to the heart of God.

“But you, beloved, building yourselves up on your most holy faith, praying in the Holy Spirit,” (Jude 1:20, NASB)

Do not leave this gift unopened. Seek, ask, and embrace the prayer language of tongues — the Holy Spirit will meet you there.

Prayer

Holy Spirit, we thank You for the precious gift of the prayer language. We ask that You would stir in us a deeper hunger for intimacy with God. Teach us to yield to Your Spirit in prayer, to move beyond the limits of our minds and into the depths of Your presence. Release the prayer language in our lives that we may grow in strength, boldness, and love. In Yeshua’s name we pray, amen.

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See Also

Faithful Living

Walking Faithfully with God

A Call to You, Beloved

“Enoch walked [in habitual fellowship] with God; and he was not, for God took him [home with Him].” — Genesis 5:24 AMP

Beloved, hear the Word and do not harden your heart. In the beginning, before the flood, when darkness had spread like a veil over the earth, there was one who chose to walk another way. Enoch did not follow the crowd. He did not bow to the idols of ease or pride. He did not walk in his own strength. He chose, instead, the narrow road—a road lit only by faith. And because he walked faithfully with God, he pleased God. He vanished from this world because God took him. Enoch did not taste death.

You must understand this: you cannot walk with God and walk with the world. The path of the righteous has always been lonely, yet it is filled with the presence of the Lord. Enoch’s testimony still speaks—he lived close enough to Heaven that God brought him home. He lived as one who knew God, not as an idea, but as a Person. Not a doctrine, but a daily companion. His life exposes the shallow living of his generation—and ours.

Oh child of God, are you walking with Him, or are you drifting? Do not be deceived: this world will never honor the Spirit-led. It will mock your holiness and call it bondage. It will seduce your soul with busyness, pleasure, and endless distractions. But hear me—this world is passing away, and also its lusts; but the one who does the will of God continues to live forever (1 John 2:17 NASB).

A quiet river winds through a lush, untouched garden where fruit trees flourish and golden light streams from Heaven—a glimpse of Eden, where God still walks with man.

The Secret Place of the Faithful Walk

You were not made to walk alone. You were not made to carry your burdens without help. The breath in your lungs, the beat of your heart, the thoughts in your mind—all are sustained by God. You depend on Him for everything. Every. Single. Thing. And yet how often do you live as though you are sufficient?

Enoch knew better. He knew what you must know now: our strength fails, but God never does. The devil whispers to your soul, “You’re doing fine. You can take care of yourself.” But you cannot. You were created to walk hand-in-hand with El Shaddai, the All-Sufficient One. You were never meant to lead your own life.

Draw near to Him, and He will draw near to you. The Spirit is calling you out of mediocrity and into intimacy. Not to religious routine, but to fellowship. To the secret place. To the stillness where God speaks and strengthens.

The Voice Still Calls: Walk With Me

The Lord is calling. He’s not calling the crowd—He’s calling you. He wants your attention. He wants your obedience. He wants your heart, wholly surrendered. Not once, but daily. Moment by moment. He wants your walk.

To walk faithfully with God is not merely to believe that He exists—it is to believe Him, trust Him, follow Him. “Can two walk together unless they are agreed?” (Amos 3:3). No, beloved. You cannot walk with God while holding hands with sin. You cannot walk in the Spirit while dragging the chains of compromise.

Lay them down. Lay down your pride. Lay down your fear. Lay down your timeline. Choose Him now. Say with your heart what Enoch said with his life: “I will walk with You, even if I must walk alone.”

When shadows press near and voices grow loud,
I follow You, Shepherd, apart from the crowd.
Your whispers are clearer than thunder or flame,
And I walk in Your shadow, upheld by Your name.

Prayer of the Heart

Holy Father, I need You more than breath, more than rest, more than anything this world offers. I have tried to walk in my own strength, and I have failed. But now I come. I return to the narrow road. Take my hand, Lord. Lead me like You led Enoch. Let me walk faithfully with You until the very end. May Your Spirit fill me, guide me, and keep me. Let me not stray. In the name of Yeshua, my Redeemer, amen.

See Also

For the Worshiper (Go Deeper)

Footsteps wind through a misty forest toward the light, symbolizing the soul’s desperate journey—walking faithfully with God, step by step, breath by breath.

The Song of Enoch
“And Enoch walked [in habitual fellowship] with God; and he was not, for God took him.” — Genesis 5:24 AMP

Verse 1
I was a man among many, born of dust,
Yet my soul found no peace in the ways of the earth.
Their laughter was hollow, their idols were rust,
So I turned my face to the One of true worth.
In the silence of dawn, I heard Him call—
Not in thunder, but in the hush of my fall.
“Walk with Me, son, and trust My way,”
And I bowed low—I could not delay.

Chorus
For I cannot breathe without Your breath,
I cannot stand but by Your strength.
Each step, each heartbeat, each fragile day—
I walk because You make a way.
Desperate I am, and desperate I stay,
Forever dependent—O God, be my stay.

Verse 2
The world mocked softly, with velvet chains,
Whispered, “Why strive for a God you can’t see?”
But I saw His glory beyond the plains,
And His voice thundered in secret to me.
The stars could not guide me, the moon did not know,
But the flame in my bones began to grow.
Not by sight, but by holy fire,
I walked with God, my one desire.

Chorus
For I cannot breathe without Your breath,
I cannot stand but by Your strength.
Each step, each heartbeat, each fragile day—
I walk because You make a way.
Desperate I am, and desperate I stay,
Forever dependent—O God, be my stay.

Bridge
I did not seek reward or crown,
I only sought to hear Your sound—
The footsteps of the Living One,
The whisper of El Elyon.
When all around me turned to dust,
Still, I held Your Word in trust.
“Abide in Me,” You gently said,
And You became my daily bread.

Verse 3
Now the path grew narrow, the crowd grew thin,
But I would not trade this walk for sin.
For I have seen the Holy Flame,
I have heard Yeshua call my name.
And when the earth could hold me no more,
You opened wide the unseen door.
You took me in—not by death or rod,
But by the hand of the Living God.

Final Chorus
I cannot breathe without Your breath,
I cannot rise but by Your strength.
Eternal steps on Heaven’s way—
I walk because You make a way.
Desperate I was, and desperate I’ll be,
Forever held in Your eternity.

Tag
So teach me, Lord, to walk like this,
In holy fear and Heaven’s kiss.
Let every breath, each footstep trod,
Cry out—I’m desperate for my God.

ginosko

Know the Living God

“Be still and know that I am God.” —Psalm 46:10 (NASB)

Beloved, it is not enough to know about God, but to know the Living God. Many have studied His name, read His Word, even walked among His people—yet never encountered Him face to face. This is the tragedy of religion without revelation, theology without intimacy. But God did not create you for a shallow knowledge. He created you to know Him.

In Hebrew, yadaʿ; in Greek, ginōskō. This is not mere head knowledge—it is intimate, covenantal, heart-deep knowing. It speaks of relationship, not information. It is how a husband knows his bride, with love and faithfulness. It is how a shepherd knows each sheep by name, tenderly and without mistake. It is how a child knows the voice of their father, with instinct and trust. This is how God knows us—and how He calls us to know Him. “I am the Good Shepherd, and I know My own, and My own know Me” (John 10:14, NASB).

From the beginning, God has desired to be known so that we would know the Living God. “They will know that I am the Lord their God who brought them out of the land of Egypt” (Exodus 29:46, NASB). His mighty acts were not for spectacle but for relationship. He gave signs, sabbaths, deliverance, and commandments—all so His people would know Him. He speaks to the humble, “That I may know You, so that I may find favor in Your sight” (Exodus 33:13, NASB).

But how easily people settle for knowledge about God instead of truly knowing the Living God. They memorize doctrine but never fall in love. They attend services but never commune with the Spirit. They use His name but do not know His voice. What did Yeshua say? “This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent” (John 17:3, NASB).

Do you know Him? Truly?

The prophets cried out for this very thing. Hosea wept, “Let us know, let us press on to know the Lord” (Hosea 6:3, NASB). Jeremiah thundered, “Let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows Me” (Jeremiah 9:24, NASB). And the psalmist declared, “Those who know Your name will put their trust in You” (Psalm 9:10, NASB).

To know the Living God is to walk in His presence, abide in His truth, and burn with love for Him. It is to hear Him say, “You are Mine” (Isaiah 43:1, NASB), and to answer, “I know whom I have believed” (2 Timothy 1:12, NASB). This is the call—to move from the outer courts of information to the holy of holies of intimacy.

The early church knew this power. Paul cried out, “That I may know Him and the power of His resurrection” (Philippians 3:10, NASB). Peter prayed, “Grace and peace be multiplied to you in the knowledge of God” (2 Peter 1:2, NASB). And John testified, “We know that the Son of God has come, and has given us understanding so that we may know Him who is true” (1 John 5:20, NASB).

This is your invitation.

Not just to study—but to seek.
Not just to understand—but to encounter.
Not just to hear about God—but to know Him.

Let us pray

Father, El Elyon, the Most High—draw us close to You. Open the eyes of our hearts to know You, not by intellect alone, but by Spirit and truth. Like Moses, we say, “Show me now Your ways, that I may know You.” Like Paul, we press on to know the Living God. Like David, we thirst for You as the deer pants for the water brooks. Take us deeper than we’ve gone before. Let our hearts burn with the knowledge of the Holy. Let every other pursuit fade until we are found in You alone.

We want to know You.

Not just facts—but Your face.
Not just power—but Your presence.
Not just names—but You, Yeshua, our God and King.

Amen.

See Also

Holy Spirit

Knowing the Spirit Within

A call to embrace the supernatural witness of the Holy Spirit and knowing the Spirit within

Beloved,

I write to you not as one who holds answers of the mind, but as one whose heart has burned with the voice of the Spirit. You who are called by the name of Yeshua, do you not know that what you have received is not the spirit of this world, but the Spirit who is from God? That Spirit whispers in places no man can reach. He speaks not to the mind first, but to the soul—deep to deep, glory to glory.

The Apostle wrote, “What we have received is not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may understand what God has freely given us” (1 Corinthians 2:12, AMP). And yet today many walk as though this Spirit were silent. They search the Scriptures for arguments, but not for awe. They assemble sermons that dazzle the intellect, but do not break the heart. This is not the way of God.

The witness of the Spirit cannot be packaged. It is not a theory to teach. It is a Presence to encounter. “The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of God” (Romans 8:16, NASB). This is not poetry; it is reality. Have you heard Him? Has your spirit trembled under the weight of His holiness? Has your soul been kissed by the fire of His truth?

You may know doctrine well. You may have walked many years in the church house. But I ask you, dear child of God—has your heart known Him? Not merely believed, but known. “This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Yeshua the Messiah whom You have sent” (John 17:3, NASB).

There is a kind of knowledge that words cannot touch. There is a voice the outward ear cannot hear. It is the still, inward breath of Ruach HaKodesh—the Holy Spirit—hovering over the soul like He hovered over the waters in the beginning. “You have an anointing from the Holy One, and you all know” (1 John 2:20, NASB). How? By the inner witness, the sacred yes of the Spirit.

Do not reduce what is holy to what is explainable. The world demands signs and arguments. But the Spirit reveals Himself to the surrendered, not to the skeptical. He bypasses the defenses of reason and writes the name of the Father upon the heart. Those who are born of Him walk not by sight but by the light within.

The question is not, “Do you understand everything?” The question is, “Have you been seized by God?” Has your soul heard the thunder of His whisper? Have you become alive with a life not your own? If not, I urge you—do not settle for a religion of facts. Cry out, as the Psalmist did, “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God; when shall I come and appear before God?” (Psalm 42:2, NASB).

Let us no longer boast in knowledge alone. Let us boast in intimacy with the Holy One. Let us return to the fire that cannot be taught, only caught. Let us abandon formulas for fellowship, programs for Presence, and pride for prayer.

And now, I urge you—press in. Seek Him while He may be found. Quiet your soul. Lay down your striving. Let the Spirit testify.

The wind blows where it wills. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit (John 3:8, NASB).

Prayer

Abba,

Breathe upon us again. Awaken the deep places in our hearts. Forgive us for reducing the mystery of Your Spirit to human logic. We hunger not for religion, but for You. Let Your Spirit witness to ours. Let us know we are Yours—not just by Scripture, but by encounter.

We surrender every argument, every doubt, every fear. Work supernaturally within us this day. Let us walk with You in step, in Spirit, in truth. Lead us back to that sacred fire where all that matters is knowing You—together with Your Son, Yeshua, and the breath of Your Spirit forevermore.

Amen.

⸻

See Also

Return

When We Say “Come” – God Says “Return”

The True Distance Between Us and God

Look again. That ache in your spirit crying, “Come, Lord”—it may not reveal His absence, but your distance. God hasn’t gone anywhere. He stands right beside you, unchanged and ever near. And yet we look around, frantic and pleading, while He watches with a mix of sorrow and gentle amusement. Sorrow, because we’ve wandered. Amusement, because we’re searching for what was never lost. Is it sin that blinds us? Idols that distract? Pride that numbs? When we cry, “Come,” He answers, “Return.” Not in anger, but in mercy—calling us back to the place where He’s been all along.

Beloved, how often do our prayers begin with, “Come, Lord Jesus”—as if He had gone somewhere far off? How often do we lift our hands, ache in our voices, longing for God to descend, forgetting that He has already drawn near? The Spirit broods over the waters of our lives, and the Son stands at the door and knocks. Yet we plead, “Come!” as though He were absent. And in the stillness, the voice of the Father answers, “Return to Me.”

“Return to Me, and I will return to you,” says the Lord of hosts (Malachi 3:7, NASB). This is not contradiction. It is correction. The cry of “Come, Lord!” often masks the fact that it is our hearts that have wandered, not His. We pray for revival, for God to show up, for His presence to be known. But He has not moved. He is the Ancient of Days, seated and steadfast. It is we who have run after idols, grown cold, hidden behind our busyness or pain.

Yeshua said, “I am with you always” (Matthew 28:20, NASB), and again, “Where two or three are gathered in My name, I am there” (Matthew 18:20, NASB). He has already come. The presence of the Holy One surrounds us like the wind—felt but unseen. And yet, how blind we are when sin fogs our eyes or pride numbs our hearts.

“Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you” (James 4:8, NASB). This is the sacred tension. Our lips cry “Come,” but God says, “Return.” And if we would humble ourselves, tear down the altars we’ve built to self and success, and once again seek His face—not just His hand—we would discover what was always true: He never left.

He is the God who stands in the fire, the whisper in the cave, the One who walks beside us on the road and is only recognized when our hearts burn within us. When we say “Come,” let it not be an accusation of absence, but a confession of our own distance. And let His voice thunder back—not in anger, but in mercy—“Return.”

I cried out, “Come!” with desperate plea,
But You, O Lord, were still with me.
The space I felt was not Your part—
It came from my divided heart.

Prayer

Holy Father, forgive us for calling You absent when it was we who left. Forgive us for asking You to “come” while we clung to idols, routine, and noise. Today, we respond to Your cry—“Return to Me.” We cast off our distractions. We rend our hearts. We choose the secret place. Let us find You again where You have always been—waiting with mercy, watching like the Father for the prodigal. In the name of Yeshua, who made the way back home, Amen.

See Also

Discernment

When God Moves Differently

Beloved, why do you still stumble when God answers in a form you didn’t expect? Have you not yet learned—He is God, and you are not? He owes you no explanation. He is not bound by your deadlines, your plans, or your prayers wrapped in presumption. He is El Shaddai, the All-Sufficient One, whose thoughts are higher, whose ways are perfect, and whose timing is beyond your measure.

You cried out, and He heard you. But when He came, you didn’t recognize Him.

“He has no stately form or majesty that we would look at Him, nor an appearance that we would take pleasure in Him.”
—Isaiah 53:2 (NASB)

You expected thunder. He answered in a whisper. You looked for a door; He sent a wilderness. You prayed for victory; He gave you a cross. And now you doubt Him?

This is the pattern of God. He wrapped the King of Glory in swaddling cloths. He crowned the Messiah with thorns. He conquered sin not with armies, but with blood. So why do you still expect Him to move on your terms?

Elijah stood on the mountain, wind tearing through the rocks, fire raging, earth shaking. But the Lord was not in those. Then came the sound of a gentle blowing. And there—there—Elijah wrapped his face, because he knew. The Lord had come.

(1 Kings 19:11–13, NASB)

You must stay close enough to hear the whisper.

This moment—right now—is not about your comfort. It’s about your communion. It’s not about control. It’s about consecration. The religious leaders missed Yeshua Himself because He didn’t match their theology. They searched the Scriptures but refused the Word made flesh. They were so certain of their version of God that they crucified the real One standing before them.

“He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him.”
—John 1:11 (NASB)

Beloved, are you doing the same?

Waiting on the horizon where heaven touches earth—ready to move when God moves, no matter how He comes.

Do not resist the way of the Lord. Do not miss the miracle because it came in broken bread. Stop rehearsing the way you think He should come. Instead, pray this: “Lord, that I may receive my sight!” (Luke 18:41, NASB). Ask the Spirit of Truth to tear down every assumption, every lie, every idol dressed in your expectations. Then, open your eyes.

Let your spirit be tuned to His presence, so that whether He comes in fire or silence, in power or in pruning, you recognize Him.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
—Psalm 34:18 (NASB)

You were never meant to lead Him. You were made to follow—step by step, breath by breath. And if you walk with Him, you will see His glory. Not always in the way you imagined, but always in the way that transforms.

Receive what He gives. Recognize who He is. And rejoice in how He comes.

See Also