The With-ness of God

 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” — Psalm 23:4

 

As I was preparing for a trip to Alaska with Aiden and thinking about all the uncertainty that lay ahead, I heard someone mention something I had never really considered before: the with-ness of God.

 

Of course, I knew in my mind that God is with us. I had read it countless times throughout Scripture—how God was with His people, with the prophets, with those He called. Yet hearing it described as the with-ness of God made me pause and think more deeply about what that truly means.

 

I once heard Beth Moore describe it this way: the with-ness of God is like the handprint of His presence—His effectual presence leaving evidence that He has been there. That image stayed with me. God does not simply observe our lives from a distance. He is actively present, leaving His fingerprints throughout our journey.

 

My relationship with my Heavenly Father is essential to my spiritual growth. Yet it is far too easy to become distracted. Life gets busy. Responsibilities pile up. Social media pulls for our attention. Before we realize it, we can drift away from the quiet awareness of God’s presence.

 

I know this struggle well. I am right there with you.

 

One morning, while hurrying around the kitchen preparing breakfast for the teams in Alaska, I overheard a gentleman sharing a story that caught my attention. He said he had gone into the bank one day when he felt God gently tug at his heart to step into the office next door and pray with a woman who worked there.

 

He hesitated for a moment but eventually asked her, “Would it be okay if I prayed with you?”

 

She replied that she was a Christian but that she could not openly talk about it in her workplace. Still, she agreed to let him pray.

 

After the prayer, he turned to leave. As he walked away, the woman noticed he was limping. She asked him to shut the glass door to her office and then asked about his leg.

 

He explained that he had been struggling with pain from his sciatic nerve.

 

“Can I pray for you?” she asked.

 

He agreed. She prayed, and when she finished and said amen, the pain was completely gone.

 

He shared that he had been telling people about that moment for months because he was so amazed at what God had done.

 

As I listened, I couldn’t help but think about something. I asked him, “What if you hadn’t been willing to do what God asked you to do in the beginning—to step into that office and pray for a stranger? What if you had said, ‘Not now . . . maybe another time . . .  I’m in a hurry today’?”

 

Sometimes obedience opens the door for blessings we never expected.

 

Moments like that remind me that when God asks us to do something, we are never doing it alone. His with-ness goes before us, walks beside us, and sustains us in every step.

 

Later, I asked my SWAG group—if you've read my first book, you'll remember that the wonderful group of ladies I grew to love during my time in Alaska were my SWAG (Sassy Women at Grace)—what they think of when they hear the word with.

 

One woman said, “Together… like rice with gravy.”
Another responded, “Accompanying… like two are better than one.”

 

Their answers made me smile because they captured something simple but powerful: with means we are not alone.

 

As I was finishing writing these thoughts, my sweet elderly friend called. She asked if I would pray for her son, who was about to have surgery.

 

I immediately said, “Would you like to pray right now over the phone?”

 

“Yes, please,” she replied.

 

So we prayed together.

 

When we finished, she said softly, “Thank you, Anna. I just needed to talk about it. You really encouraged my heart.”

 

After we hung up, I felt that familiar nudge again. It was as if the Lord gently reminded me, Now send her a message and remind her that I am with her—and that I will continue to be with her.

 

The with-ness of God.

 

It shows up in unexpected phone calls.
In simple prayers.
In quiet obedience.

 

And it reminds us that wherever we walk—even through valleys—God is already there.

--Anna Creed