A Story of a Patient God 
and a Ready Heart. 

Is there anyplace I can go to avoid your Spirit?
    to be out of your sight?
If I climb to the sky, you’re there!
    If I go underground, you’re there!
If I flew on morning’s wings
    to the far western horizon,
You’d find me in a minute—
    you’re already there waiting!
Then I said to myself, “Oh, he even sees me in the dark!
    At night I’m immersed in the light!”
It’s a fact: darkness isn’t dark to you;
    night and day, darkness and light, they’re all the same to you.

Psalm 139:7–12 reminds us of a truth that is both comforting and confronting. There is nowhere we can go where God is not already present. Not the heights. Not the depths. Not the far edges of the horizon. Not even the darkest places we try to hide. Darkness and light are the same to Him. He sees. He knows. And He stays.

This past weekend at church, a sermon stirred memories of my own journey with Jesus. It reminded me that my story has never been about finding God. It has always been about realizing He was already there, patiently waiting for me to be ready.

When I was about nine years old, I had a dream that has stayed with me my entire life. As a child, I loved dreams. They were places of freedom, imagination, and adventure. In this particular dream, I met Jesus. When I recognized Him, my heart wanted to run straight into His arms. I knew Him as loving and welcoming, the Jesus I had learned about in Sunday School. But instead of running, I stood frozen. Unable to move. Jesus looked at me with peaceful, confident eyes and said, “Don’t be afraid. You will come to me when you are ready.” There was no judgment. Only peace.

When I woke up, I was confused. Why couldn’t I move? Why didn’t I run to Him? But the presence I felt in that dream never left me.

The years that followed were marked by moments where seeds of faith were planted. As a teenager, I experienced God through conferences, camps, mission trips, and serving as a camp counselor. I encountered His presence in powerful ways. I loved those moments, yet I repeatedly turned away, running back into the world. And still, Jesus waited.

There were also moments that pushed me further from Him. At sixteen, after leaving a Palm Sunday Seder meal at church, my best friend and I were involved in a head on collision on a dark country road. Sitting in the front seat, we said goodbye to one another, unsure if we would survive. We both lived. I recovered physically, but something shifted inside me. I became convinced life was short and meant to be lived to the fullest as the world defined it. Jesus watched. Jesus protected.

At eighteen, my dad died suddenly at forty eight. I did not know how to grieve. Our relationship had been complicated, and the pain was overwhelming. Escaping became my coping mechanism. Jesus continually reached for me, but I would not take His hand.

College only intensified that escape. Alcohol, sex, substances, and the pursuit of feeling numb became normal. I was broken, craving acceptance, excitement, and relief from pain. And Jesus patiently waited.

A year before graduating, I became pregnant. My life felt completely out of control. I could not even acknowledge the child growing inside me. I chose abortion. Even that day, Jesus intervened in quiet ways, placing people in my path who spoke love and truth. But my heart was hardened. I could not hear Him. Still, He pursued.

That decision left a wound I did not know how to name. I buried it deep, carrying shame and unacknowledged grief for years. I continued running, traveling, numbing, and avoiding anything that might slow me down enough to feel. Eventually, I hit rock bottom. And there, in the mess, Jesus met me. He gently asked me to look at my life and notice where I felt most fulfilled. It was the beginning of healing, even though I didn’t yet recognize His hand in it.

The years that followed brought healthier choices and slow restoration. I would step into church occasionally, thirsty for something more. Often, I found religion instead of relationship, and I kept running. But Jesus did not stop waiting.

A friend invited me to a Church in Cincinnati. It was my first weekend in a new city. I went, partly because there was a Halloween party afterward. That night, something awakened. The message, the music, the community felt real. Authentic. Safe. My walls began to crack. The seeds planted years earlier started to stir. Jesus smiled.

I kept coming. I questioned. I resisted. I softened. I joined community groups. I learned what it looked like to walk with Jesus daily. People modeled faith for me. Roots began to grow. Jesus continued to pursue and wait.

Growth came quick and deep. I met the man who would become my husband. I finally grieved my first pregnancy and received forgiveness. I went on a mission trip to South Africa and encountered the power of prayer in a way that changed me forever. I said yes to Jesus first, then yes to marriage. I was baptized, surrounded by family and friends who had walked me back to Him. What had been dormant finally bloomed.

Years later, sitting alone in the woods, Jesus met me again. I was taken back to that childhood dream. This time, the message was clear. I was ready. I saw myself running into His arms with confidence. I shouted it out loud. “I am ready.” The long awaited reunion had come. Jesus had known all along when that moment would be.

He set me free from the choices that once pulled me away. He became not just my Savior, but my Lord and my friend.

This is part of my story. And if there is one thing I hope you hear, it is this:

Jesus will wait for you.
Jesus will pursue you.
Jesus loves you no matter what you have done.
He will forgive you.
Turning toward Him brings freedom and life to the fullest.
His arms are open.

Are you ready?