Is God Real? A Gentle, Personal Invitation to Knowing Him

Is God Real? A Gentle, Personal Invitation to Knowing Him

A Love Letter

I didn’t come to this question from a place of confidence. I came to it from midnight fears—from the kind of whisper that keeps you lying awake long past bedtime, wondering, Is there Someone? Someone who is listening?

More often than not, it was the fear of death that would rise up. Especially the thought of losing my grandmother. I was terrified of what that loss would feel like. But underneath that was an even deeper fear, the loss of myself. Read that again: the loss of myself. I used to wonder what it would be like to disappear, to fall into darkness and still somehow be aware of it. Who would be aware?

As a little girl, I would wake up in the night gripped by that fear, that maybe falling asleep meant being gone forever. That scared me deeply. I didn’t know His name yet, but I could feel Someone there. A presence. Gentle. Quiet. Constant. The same Someone who would later become my tether. My still, small voice.

So… can I know God personally? Are you really there? I’d ask it in prayer, sometimes skeptically, sometimes desperately. Those first prayers were flat, more habit than communion. But He met me in the middle of that, not with thunderous revelation, but with silence that felt like a warm embrace. Silence, yes, and a lightness that settled my shoulders (not flowery language– my shoulders would come down and I could breathe easier, my thoughts would get lighter…relief, even if only a little, and even if only for a little while).

My journey started in hair forums and styling tutorials. I was chasing validation, acceptance, a sense that I was enough. But along the way, something inside me whispered, That’s not all there is. So I began carrying books everywhere I went. Advaita Vedanta, Christian mystics, Bhakti songs. All of it an offering to the question: Is there more?

What surprised me was that Love, wherever I went, felt the same. In churches, temples, synagogues, alleyways, planes, rooms where no one else was speaking. It felt like home. I finally had a phrase that fit: Only Love is here.

I learned that God doesn’t always send booming, thunderous announcements. Often, I find Him in the spaces between the noise, in the silence that follows a deep breath, in the unexpected calm when life feels chaotic. That is when I feel Him most clearly. In the softening of my chest, the lightness in my head. I remember vividly responding to the emergency screams from my father when my uncle had collapsed in our kitchen (2018ish). I felt the panic, the dread, and the LOVE. The Love steadied my hand enough to dial 911 and speak to the emergency providers and then walked me into the kitchen to comfort my dad and unconscious uncle (who was coming to). I would not have been okay without the anchor, the real, felt-faith of Love.

Another thing I do is open my Bible randomly and the page I land on, at that exact moment, reads like a love letter meant only for me. It’s uncanny. It’s Grace!

Let me share something simple. This practice of bowing, body and heart. Bow in prayer, hands together, head down, and notice how peace shows up. Then, walk upright with your eyes open, but remember, inside, your spirit is still bending before Love. In traffic, at the grocery store, anytime the world tries to crowd you, let yourself bow again, even internally. It only takes a second, but it holds you in His presence. That Love is Him. There isn’t another presence or another Love. Just this BIG LOVE.

So yes, you can know God personally. Not because life gets easier, but because when you learn to recognize His presence, your posture shifts. You’re still human. You still have needs, mess, conflict. But you begin to move from a deeper center, rooted in a love that doesn’t shift.

One day, someone told me about surrendering everything. Jesus, you take over. I prayed it, and something shifted in my spirit. I wasn’t alone. I was held.

You don’t need to have every answer to know Him. You don’t need a perfect prayer, a perfect posture, or perfect belief. You only need the willingness to listen, to that still, small voice in your heart. You only need the courage to bow, inside and out.

Let me say it again. You can know God personally. Not as a doctrine to memorize or a religion to perform. But as the gentle, loving presence who’s closer to you than your own breath.

A little love-breath prayer to end with. Close your eyes. Place your hands in front of you as if in prayer, bow your head gently toward your knees. Let your body feel quiet. Let your heart rest there, in the stillness. Then sit up straight, letting that bowed posture stay inside you, soft, humble, connected.

When the world pulls at your shoulders, remember that posture. You’re still bowed inside. That’s love holding you. Always.

I’ve shared this from the deepest part of my own search, hoping it might reflect yours. You’re not walking this alone. And He, He’s here, personal, real, waiting in silence, in love.

I love you,

Nik

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