I remember that beginning so well. The feeling when Jesus first became tangible in my life. It was like an intoxication, an all-embracing love that filled my heart to the brim. Suddenly, there was someone who understood me, who knew me completely and yet still loved me. A feeling like being newly in love, only deeper, more existential.
But I must be honest: alongside all that warmth, there was also a great deal of uncertainty. It was like a glass of water you've just filled with fresh spring water, only for all the sediment from the bottom to be stirred up. The water was there, life was there, but the view was cloudy.
All the old habits, the worries, the entrenched ways of thinking – they were still present, floating like particles in this new living water. I longed for the clarity spoken of in the Bible, but my daily life often felt just as chaotic as before.
When the Water Was Still Murky
This initial phase was a time of inner conflict. On one hand, there was this boundless joy and gratitude that God had turned towards me. On the other, the frustrating realisation that my character hadn't changed overnight. There was still the impatience in traffic, the quick judgement of a colleague, or the evening escape from my own thoughts into various distractions.
It felt like a constant battle. One part of me wanted to walk this new path, while the other was repeatedly drawn back to the old, well-worn tracks. And with every relapse, with every moment I reverted to my old patterns, the water in my glass became a little murkier again.
The lie that creeps in during such moments is quiet but poisonous: "See? You can't do it. Maybe this God thing isn't for you after all. You're not good enough." And this is precisely where the first major turning point lies. Do you succumb to this lie, or do you hold fast to the truth that God is already with you, even in the murky water?
How the Glass Slowly Clears
Clarity didn't come through a single, grand act of will. It didn't arrive because I "tried harder." It seeped slowly into my life, almost unnoticed, through small, everyday decisions.
I began to have short, intimate conversations with God several times a day. Not grand, formal prayers, but a simple sentence in the car: "Jesus, help me to be patient now." A quick thank you at my desk for a job well done. A sigh in the evening: "Lord, this day was hard; please take this burden." It was an attempt to maintain the connection, to keep the line open.
Then came reading the Bible. No longer as a chore to meet a quota, but as a search for His voice. Sometimes I would read just a single verse, but it would carry me through the entire day. It was as if God was handing me a compass, a direction for my thoughts.
Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. (Romans 12:2 NIV)
With each of these small moments, a drop of clear water flowed into my glass. Jesus Himself didn't just flick away the particles; instead, He slowly diluted the murky water with His presence. It wasn't my strength, but His steady flow that brought about the change. My only task was to keep turning the tap open a little more.
The Danger of Becoming Distracted Again
Everyday life is a master of distraction. Just when you feel the water is becoming a little clearer, an external wave comes along and stirs everything up again. A family argument, pressure at work, a troubling news report. And immediately, the old worries, the old fears are fully present once more.
The art lies in not letting this discourage you. It's normal for life to happen. The question isn't whether storms will come, but where our anchor lies. Again and again, I catch myself trying to solve all problems on my own, to maintain control, and to get entangled in spirals of thought.
In these moments, I have to consciously choose to lift my gaze again. To return to what truly sustains me. Sometimes that means simply being still for five minutes and saying, "God, I don't know what to do right now. But you do." It's a constant returning, a gentle but firm realignment of the heart.
This steadfastness is perhaps the greatest challenge and, at the same time, the greatest blessing. It shapes our character more deeply than any single spiritual high could ever do.
Learning to See Him Everywhere
The clearer the water became within me, the more my view of the world outside changed. I began to seek God not just in designated "pious" moments, but to discover Him everywhere.
I see Him in the unexpected kindness of the cashier at the supermarket. I see Him in the laughter of my children. I see Him in the incredible order of a pine forest after a rain shower. His handwriting is everywhere, if only you learn to read it.
This practice of seeing Him everywhere has changed everything. For what you seek shapes your thinking. If I actively look for the good, for His presence, the negative things I can't change anyway have less power over me. They are still there, but they no longer consume me.
When you recognise the Creator in creation, you begin to see the world through His eyes. And inevitably, you become more like Him. You start to hold the good in your mind, to seek the positive, and to act from that perspective.
For me, this is the true meaning of life. To find God, to thank Him for the undeserved gift of life, and through this relationship, to be so transformed that in the end, you can return home to Him as a good, purified soul.
It's not a conclusion, not a goal you reach once and for all. It's a daily journey. A journey where the water in my glass is sometimes clearer and sometimes murkier. But I know now: He is always there. And His light shines even through the murkiest water.