He’s Still There

Sometimes, if we’re honest,

we keep ourselves surrounded because we don’t really feel God’s presence anymore.

It’s interesting how often we feel alone when it comes to God.

We surround ourselves with people. We pack our calendars with activity. We fill every quiet moment with work, events, responsibilities, relationships - even good ones like family, spouses, and children. And yet, somewhere in the middle of all that noise, we grow tired. Exhausted. Not just physically, but spiritually.

Sometimes, if we’re honest, we keep ourselves surrounded because we don’t really feel God’s presence anymore.

So let me say this plainly and gently: He’s there.

Whether you feel Him or not.
Whether you sense Him or not.
Whether you hear His voice or not.

He’s there.

I remember growing up in Brooklyn, New York. It was a strange and wonderful place—full of characters, movement, life, and lessons. Around the age of thirteen, I was finally learning how to ride a bike. No training wheels this time. My mom bought me a real bike—one of those BMX-style bikes everyone wanted back then.

People from my neighborhood took turns helping me learn. They’d stand behind me, holding the back of the seat while I pedaled. As long as someone had their hand there, I could ride straight. But the moment they let go, I’d wobble… and often fall.

I became so dependent on that hand holding the seat that even when they said, “You can do this,” I didn’t believe them. So they kept holding on—sometimes for the length of the whole block.

Until one day.

A close friend was holding the seat as usual. Pedaling felt smooth. Natural. Then—without telling me—he let go.

At first, I didn’t notice.
Then I realized he wasn’t there.

Fear rushed in. But here’s the thing—I was still riding.

So why fall? I was already moving forward.

He wasn’t holding me anymore, but I knew he could see me. And knowing he could see me mattered. I knew he couldn’t control every wobble or prevent every fall—but I also knew this: if I did fall, he would come running.

That’s what it’s like with the Lord.

There are seasons when God holds the seat of your life very tightly. You feel Him. You hear Him. You sense His nearness in undeniable ways. And then there are seasons when He lets go—not because He’s left, but because He knows you’re ready.

He knows when He no longer needs to hold the seat.

He still holds the seat of your heart.

He’s watching.
He’s guiding.
He’s protecting.
He’s leading you where you need to go.

You may not feel His hands the way you used to, but His eyes have never left you.

So don’t worry—you’re not alone.

I know it may have been a while since you felt God.
It may have been a while since you heard His voice.
It may have been a while since His presence felt strong and unmistakable.

But hear this: He’s watching you.

He’s there.
He’s covering you.
He’s protecting you.
He’s keeping you.

And more than that—He trusts you.

He trusts you to take the ride.
He trusts you to walk in what He’s already shown you.
He trusts you to keep pedaling forward, even when the road feels uncertain.

He’s not absent.
He’s not distant.
He’s not disengaged.

He’s a mighty God—and you are never alone.

Even in the silence.
Even in the uncertainty.
Even when His hands feel unseen.

He’s still there.