Last Sunday, my pastor said something that’s stuck with me all week. He talked about “drawing nearer to God in times of trouble.”
That sounds amazing, doesn’t it? Poetic. Comforting. Instagram-worthy. But here’s the question I couldn’t shake: how, exactly, do I do that?
Because if you’re anything like me, you’ve heard these phrases in church for years. “Seek God.” “Pursue His presence.” “Draw near to Him.” They roll off the tongue like we all have a built-in GPS that beeps every time we’re taking a step closer to the Almighty.
But let’s be honest: most of us are just Average Joes and Janes trying to figure out how to juggle work, family, and a spiritual life that feels like it’s always running behind schedule. Drawing near to the “Keeper of the Stars” (Psalm 8:3–4) can sound as overwhelming as trying to land a rocket on Mars.
So here’s where I want to start this seven-part series: not with the deep end, but with the shallow water. The place where kids splash and beginners stick their toes in. Because here’s the good news – God meets us even there.
James 4:8 says, “Come close to God, and God will come close to you.” Notice what it doesn’t say. It doesn’t say you need to memorize Leviticus, fast for 40 days, or pray in King James English before He shows up. It just says: draw near. Take a step. Wobble your way toward Him, and He promises to close the distance.
That’s freeing for people like me. Because most of the time, I don’t feel like a spiritual giant. I feel like a guy fumbling through prayer, distracted by the daily news, and trying to stay awake while reading my Bible at night.
But here’s the thing: God never asked me to be a superhero. He just asked me to come closer.
Isaiah 55:6 puts it this way: “Seek the Lord while you can find Him; call on Him while He is near.” It’s an invitation, not a checklist. Like a father crouching down, arms open, saying to his toddler, “Come here. Just take a step.”
And let’s be real: we already know how this works in every other part of life. If you want to get in shape, you don’t start by running a marathon – you start by walking around the block. If you want to learn guitar, you don’t begin with Eddie Van Halen solos – you start with three chords.
Faith works the same way. We draw near to God one small, wobbly step at a time.
Maybe it’s whispering a prayer in the car on your way to work. Maybe it’s opening your Bible to a single psalm and sitting with it for five minutes. Maybe it’s just showing up to church when you’d rather stay home. That’s not “bare minimum faith” – that’s the beginning of the journey.
And the crazy part? God honors it. He draws near.
I think we get tripped up because we imagine faith is only for the “professional Christians” – the pastors, the authors, the people who can quote Greek verbs like they’re ordering lunch. Meanwhile, we’re in the cheap seats muttering, “Uh, God, help?” and wondering if it counts.
But it does. Romans 8:26 tells us the Spirit Himself intercedes for us when we don’t even know what to pray. Our stammering gets translated into heavenly language. So yes, even our clumsy first steps matter.
Here’s what I’m learning: starting small isn’t failing. It’s faithful. Psalm 119:105 says, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” Not a floodlight, not a spotlight – just a lamp. Just enough for the next step.
And that’s what this series is really about. Over the next few weeks, I want to wrestle with the practical, ordinary, sometimes messy ways an Average Joe (or Jane) can actually draw nearer to God. Prayer that doesn’t sound polished. Scripture reading that doesn’t feel overwhelming. Repentance that feels like a U-turn on a busy road. Community, doubt, worship, all of it.
But it starts here, in the shallows. With the courage to admit that we don’t have it all figured out, and that’s okay. Because God isn’t standing off in the deep end of the pool, arms crossed, waiting for us to finally swim to Him. He’s already close, already inviting, already smiling as we stumble closer.
So maybe drawing near to God doesn’t start with perfection. Maybe it just starts with one honest step.
And maybe that’s all He ever asked of us.
