The Lord says: “These people come near to me with their mouth and honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. Their worship of me is based on merely human rules they have been taught. Isaiah 29:13
I surrendered my life to Christ when I was thirty and attended church regularly. I wanted a personal relationship with Christ, so I did everything to know him better. I read the Bible in its entirety several times. I studied scripture, memorized it, prayed, and did my best to obey his other commands. But it seemed I still missed the mark. “A personal relationship with Jesus” is not even in the Bible. What does it mean, and is it important? My answer is not based on years of education and study but on my personal beliefs and experiences.
As you probably know, my wife, Tracy, and I had a ten-day encounter with God in March 2019. It changed us forever and charted a new course in our lives. Before that time, my walk with the Lord was lukewarm at best. My friends knew I was a Christ-follower, but I lived my life as if it were mine. I didn’t deny myself and take up the cross of Jesus. (Matthew 16:24-25). I would have said yes if someone asked if I had a personal relationship with him. I may not have lived for Christ then, but he knew my heart was his.
Some people may claim to be Christians, say, and do all the right things, but their heart is far from the Lord. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus discusses true as opposed to false faith. “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons, and in your name perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!” Matthew 7:21-23
The word "know" is used in a relational sense rather than intellectual knowledge, which can only mean that Jesus wants a personal relationship with us. But whoever loves God is known by God. 1 Corinthians 8:3 Our obedience to him is born out of love, not duty. Our Lord gave everything so we could have a relationship with him. He said, “I no longer call you servants because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything I learned from my Father I have made known to you.” John 15:15
It has been over four years since God came to our home, and one thing remains constant. Emotion swells within me every time I share the moment when he left on the 10th day. Jesus taught me that love is the most powerful thing in the universe. His love is piercing, relentless, and all-consuming. But even those words fall short. When I experienced his love, I cried, "No words, no words." There are no words in any language that can adequately describe God’s love for us. There are no words in any language that can express God’s infinite nature. No words could ever possibly grasp the fullness of who our creator is. Being in his presence was so intense that my mind could not think about God being there until after he left. I knew that time would come, and even as overwhelming and exhausting as it was, I felt him say, "It will be okay." Neither of us wanted to part from each other, but it was time. Tracy’s words to me from the night before came to my mind. “This cannot continue at this intensity.” She was right. In my humanness, I understood that what I had felt and said only six hours before was true when I told her, “I don’t think I can make it through another day.” The thought of it scared me, and it scared Tracy. At this point, he had poured himself into me for nine days and it was all I could withstand.
I didn’t physically see Jesus, but he was with me revealing his visit was ending . How is it possible that I was consoling Him? He didn’t need comforting. I did. At that moment, he wasn’t there as my creator but as my friend, my daddy, my Abba father. I was in the presence of the King of all. Now he was leaving. And through my grief, I was also amazed because I felt peace. It was a peace that flooded me. It was intense. The peace I felt was more intense than God’s revelations, the visions I saw, and being in the presence of almighty God for the previous nine days. I was drowning in his peace as he was helping me overcome the extreme grief of his departure. I did not want my Papa to leave! Just thinking about it, just knowing that he was going, brought more pain than I had ever endured, and it caused me to sob. But the peace kept surrounding me until slowly I was able to acknowledge this truth: “I am in Baja on a Saturday morning, and I understand my Father is leaving.” I stared down at the journal page, now wet with my tears. If I had processed everything rationally, I would have acknowledged that he wasn’t genuinely leaving—his presence is everywhere. He is with us always. But this experience was ending.
My mind seemed to operate from moment to moment, unable to see the big picture. Jesus had been here, all this time, for ten days in the most personal and intimate way. Though I didn’t gaze upon him with my physical eyes, my spiritual eyes saw his presence everywhere. In every corner, in every way. I knew he would continue to make himself known to me after he left, but it wouldn’t be the same. He was there just as he had been the previous nine days that Saturday morning. Our time was intimate, as if he was sitting by the fire having coffee with me. Neither of us said much, mostly just making small talk—as good friends, as a father and son might, as we prepared for the departure. But he had chosen the most personal way to tell me. I could tell that he was grieving with me. It was human. It was personal. I have never called any man Papa or even used the word. It was far too personal and wasn’t in my vocabulary. But at that moment, Jesus became my Papa.
My Lord, my Jesus, the firstborn over all creation, was my new dad. He hurts when we hurt and cries when we cry. He is such a personal Father that he mourns when we suffer. The sun was beginning to peek over the mountains and onto the ocean. And I knew he’d gone. I started wailing and grieving terribly, even though I was flooded with peace and surrounded by his love. As I began consoling myself, I said, "It's okay, it’s all going to be good. I’ll see him again."