I heard something the other day that has lingered, almost demanding that I spend some time with it. Someone remarked: “God always creates a path back to him, no matter how separated, isolated, and unworthy we might feel. You are never alone with God.”
I don’t know about you, but I have certainly lived through seasons where I felt entirely abandoned, or worse, too unworthy to even look in the direction of God. Paradoxically, these feelings rarely stem from monumental transgressions—things like murder or treason. Instead, the barrier between ourselves and God is usually built from “small bricks” rather than large stones. It is the steady accumulation of daily neglects, minor dishonesties, sharp words, and quiet apathy.
Philosophically, we often think of separation as a matter of distance. We imagine we have walked too far away. But guilt distorts our perception of geography. We believe that if we have taken ten thousand steps away from God, we must take ten thousand painful steps back.
The truth hidden in the quote is that the “path back” is not a measurement of distance, but of orientation. If God is omnipresent, then the distance between us and the divine is always zero. The “mountain” we think we have to climb is an illusion created by our own shame.
When we attempt to speak of God, language often fails us. We are forced to rely on the highest human analogy available: the love of a parent for a child.
No matter what a child does, an invisible, unbreakable tie remains. The relationship may be strained, fractured, or silenced by the world, but within the parent’s heart, the child’s place is permanent. The parent’s love is not a reward for the child’s good behavior; it is a fundamental law of the parent’s existence.
But even this beautiful analogy is just a shadow. If a parent’s love is a profound human constant, God’s love is a thousand times greater—it operates on the scale of infinity. In philosophy, infinity is not just “a very large number”; it is a quality that cannot be diminished by subtraction. No amount of human failing, no stack of “small bricks,” can diminish an infinite love. You cannot reduce infinity by taking something away from it. Therefore, your unworthiness cannot shrink God’s capacity to hold you.
To say “You are never alone with God” is to acknowledge a form of presence. It means that even in the darkest basement of our isolation, when we feel completely cut off from humanity and divinity alike, God is there—not as a judging spectator, but as the very ground we are standing on.
When you find yourself believing the mountain to God is too steep, or that the wall you’ve built is too thick, remember that the architecture of grace is designed to collapse those barriers from the inside out. God does not wait for you at the top of the mountain; God climbs it with you, easing the way, because the path back was already laid before you even realized you were lost.
Well said, many good points. I really liked ‘zero distance’!
Thanks, my friend.
Soulful analogy. Comforting explanation. Thanks again, Webb
Thanks my friend.