Douglas Vandergraph Faith Ministry from YouTube

There are moments in life when you are not looking for God, not expecting anything unusual, not praying for some breakthrough, and yet the atmosphere around you shifts in a way that feels almost impossible to describe. It is as if eternity brushes up against the edges of your ordinary day and suddenly the world you thought you knew feels too small to contain whatever is happening. I have walked with God long enough to know that these moments are not random, accidental, or coincidental. They are invitations. They are divine appointments that God schedules long before we ever realize we need them. They are the kind of sacred interruptions that rewrite the story of a person’s faith. And in my own life, there was a day when God’s presence overwhelmed me so intensely that every attempt I have ever made to explain it feels inadequate. It was not theatrical. It was not emotional hype. It was not a spiritual high. It was a collision between God’s reality and my humanity, and it left me permanently changed.

Before that moment, I thought I understood what the presence of God felt like. I believed I had tasted it in worship services, sensed it in quiet prayer, and recognized it in seasons of desperation when I cried out for help. But nothing prepared me for the moment when God decided to show me that His presence was not simply something we feel; it is something that comes for us. It is something that fills the room with a weight so holy that every fear bows down and every doubt falls quiet. When it happened, I was not doing anything religious. I was not fasting. I was not on a prayer retreat. I was simply living life, trying to be faithful, trying to follow God as best I knew how. And then, without warning, the air changed. It thickened. It became heavy and alive and charged with something I could not name at first. My mind stopped racing. My body started trembling. My heart began to beat in a rhythm that felt synchronized with something far larger than myself. I remember looking around the room as if I could see what was happening, but what I felt was deeper than sight. It was like God Himself stepped into the room with me. Not in a metaphorical sense. Not as a comforting thought. It was as real as breathing.

In that moment, I understood something that years of sermons and study had never fully explained. God’s presence is not an idea; it is an experience. It is not a theological concept; it is an encounter. And once you encounter Him at that level, you stop trying to manufacture spiritual moments and you start learning how to respond to the ones He initiates. I stood there, overwhelmed, unable to move, unable to explain, unable to speak. Every emotion inside of me felt magnified, but none of them controlled the moment. It was as if love itself had taken form and filled every inch of space around me. I could feel God revealing Himself not through words but through awareness. It was as though He was saying, without a single sentence spoken, Here I am. I have always been here. I have been closer than you knew. And in that presence, every worry I carried disappeared, not because I worked through it, but because God’s nearness made it irrelevant.

After that day, I realized something profound: the presence of God is not distant, complicated, or reserved for those who seem more spiritual than the rest of us. His presence is continually reaching for us, and the only reason we often miss it is because we have trained ourselves to look for something dramatic while He is revealing Himself in ways that require stillness, awareness, humility, and openness. Many believers go through their entire lives wanting more of God but never slowing down long enough to notice how often He is brushing the edges of their day. We convince ourselves that experiencing God at a deeper level requires a spiritual resume, yet the truth is far simpler. God is not drawn to performance. He is drawn to surrender. The moment we shift from trying to impress Him to simply acknowledging Him, everything changes. We begin to see Him in places we once overlooked, and we start to recognize how present He already is.

That realization became the foundation of what I now know is the number one way to experience God’s presence like never before. It is not complicated. It is not mystical. It is not something reserved for a chosen few. It is something God has always wanted from His people, yet something we rarely offer Him because we live in a world that trains us to do the opposite. We spend so much time trying to be strong that we forget God reveals Himself most clearly when we stop pretending we are. We live in a constant rush, obsessed with productivity, achievement, and self-reliance, and then we wonder why our spiritual lives feel shallow or distant. Yet God has always moved most powerfully in those who slow down enough to notice Him. Those who choose quiet over noise, presence over distraction, and stillness over striving become the ones who recognize God most vividly. And the one thing God has shown me repeatedly—the one thing that unlocks a deeper encounter with Him—is this: create space for Him. Not just time. Space.

This distinction matters more than most people realize. Many believers give God time, but very few give God space. Time is something you schedule out of obligation. Space is something you offer out of devotion. Time is a moment carved out of your day. Space is a posture of the heart that remains open, ready, receptive, and attentive long after the prayer is over. When you give God space, you are not simply reading Scripture to check a box. You are reading to listen. You are reading to encounter. You are reading to become aware of the God who is already near. When you give God space, you are not praying to say words—you are praying to receive alignment. You are praying with expectation. You are praying with sensitivity to what God may want to highlight, whisper, nudge, or breathe into your spirit. Space is holy. Space is where God speaks. Space is where your awareness shifts from information about God to connection with God.

And yet, most people never experience that deeper connection because they fill every pocket of silence with noise. The second the room grows quiet, they reach for their phone. The moment a thought surfaces they are uncomfortable with, they drown it in entertainment. The instant God tries to speak to their heart, they silence the moment by scrolling, streaming, or distracting themselves into numbness. The modern world has turned stillness into an inconvenience and silence into a threat, and in doing so, it has robbed millions of believers of the ability to sense God the way their soul longs to. When I look back on the encounter I had with God’s presence, I often wonder how many times He tried to meet me like that and I simply wasn’t quiet long enough to notice. Not because He wasn’t speaking. Not because He wasn’t near. But because I was too busy trying to manage everything on my own.

The day God revealed Himself to me so powerfully was not a day when I had everything together. It was a day when my spirit was hungry, even though my schedule was full. It was a day when I felt stretched thin, worn out, and in need of something I couldn’t name. And in the middle of that emotional fatigue, I finally stopped rushing. I finally stopped forcing. I finally stopped carrying the weight of responsibilities that were never mine to shoulder alone. I sat quietly. I exhaled. I unclenched my mind. And in that stillness, God stepped into the room. That is the power of giving God space. That is the doorway into His presence.

What I learned from that experience, and what I want to teach you here, is that the deepest encounters with God rarely happen in the moments we try to control. They happen in the moments we release control. They happen when we stop trying to manage God, measure Him, analyze Him, or confine Him to our intellectual framework. They happen when our soul whispers something our lips haven’t yet formed: God, I need You more than I need answers. God, I need You more than I need clarity. God, I need You more than the illusion of control. God, I need You more than the things I’ve been chasing. That kind of surrender is magnetic to heaven. It draws God not because He needs your weakness but because He delights in revealing His strength in the places you finally stop pretending you don’t need Him.

And I want to tell you something gently but honestly: many believers never feel God’s presence at a deeper level because they have built lives so loud that God becomes one voice among thousands instead of the Voice that rises above them. They pray for intimacy with God while living in a constant state of spiritual overstimulation. They long for the peace of God but fill their mind with more noise in an hour than their grandparents filled in a week. They want depth but settle for spiritual fast food. They want revelation but resist reflection. They want closeness with God without offering closeness in return. And while God always loves them, always pursues them, and always remains near, their awareness of Him becomes muted, foggy, distant, or blurred.

You can feel God like never before. You can walk in His presence with more clarity than you’ve ever experienced. You can cultivate a relationship with God that feels alive, vibrant, personal, intimate, and transformational. But it begins with one choice—make space for Him. Not just during church. Not just during morning devotions. Not just during crises. Throughout your day. In the transitions. In the quiet moments. In the pauses between tasks. In the minutes before sleep. In the car. In the kitchen. In the hallway. In the ordinary places where you least expect God to move but where He loves to appear.

When I think about how God draws near to people, I realize something profound that shaped everything in my walk with Him: God’s presence does not visit the proud. It does not rest on the rushed. It does not saturate the distracted. God’s presence floods the lives of those who dare to slow down long enough to feel what has always been there. Most people believe their distance from God is evidence of spiritual failure, when the truth is far more hopeful. The distance we feel is not a sign that God is far away; it is a sign that we have crowded our lives with too much noise to notice His nearness. And once you finally understand that, something inside you shifts in a way that permanently changes your spiritual expectations. You stop begging God to show up because you realize He already has. You stop pleading for Him to speak because you realize His voice surrounds you constantly. You stop chasing emotional highs and begin cultivating spiritual awareness. You begin to notice God in the pauses, in the transitions, in the fragile places you once ignored. And because awareness expands with attention, you discover that the more space you create for God, the more clearly His presence fills your life.

This is why creating space is the number one way to deepen your relationship with God, and yet it is the one practice modern believers neglect the most. People assume their spiritual growth is tied to massive effort, intense discipline, or monumental acts of devotion, but the truth is far simpler: those who slow down experience God more deeply than those who speed through life trying to find Him. The world does not reward stillness, but heaven does. The world does not honor quiet, but God does. The world does not applaud surrender, but the Holy Spirit meets people right there—in surrender that feels too vulnerable, too simple, too quiet to matter. The reason God moves there is because surrender empties the soul of everything that competes for His voice. When you surrender, you are not losing control; you are making room. You are clearing the clutter in your heart that keeps God at arm’s length. You are making your inner world a place where the presence of God can breathe. And wherever God can breathe, God can speak, God can move, God can transform, and God can turn the ordinary moments of your day into places where heaven touches earth.

When I experienced that overwhelming moment of God stepping into the room, I didn’t realize at the time that He was teaching me something that would guide the rest of my life. He was showing me that His presence was not a luxury to visit; it was a reality to inhabit. He was revealing that spirituality is not a compartment of life but the atmosphere of life. Every part of our day becomes a sanctuary when we stop dividing the sacred from the ordinary. God never intended for prayer to be a room we walk into and out of; He intended it to be the climate we carry within us. And when you finally learn how to make space for Him at that level—internally, consistently, instinctively—you begin to walk in a depth of relationship with Him that dissolves fear, reshapes identity, strengthens character, and awakens purpose in ways nothing else can. The presence of God becomes not something you search for but something you notice. Something you sense. Something you trust. Something you rest in. Something that steadies you when the world shakes. Something that pulls you back when anxiety tries to take over. Something that whispers truth when lies scream the loudest. Something that fills your life with peace that doesn’t make sense, clarity that you didn’t think you were capable of receiving, and wisdom far beyond your upbringing or education.

What most people do not realize is that God’s presence carries layers. There is the layer of comfort that wraps around you when your heart is aching. There is the layer of correction that aligns you when your path begins to drift. There is the layer of conviction that strengthens your conscience whenever you are about to compromise. There is the layer of clarity that settles your mind when confusion tries to overwhelm it. There is the layer of calling that stirs you out of spiritual complacency and into spiritual purpose. And there is the layer of communion—the rare, holy, life-altering layer—where you sense God not as an idea but as the most real presence in the room. Many believers experience the lighter layers but never reach the deeper ones because the deeper layers require space. They require silence. They require a soul that has stopped running. They require a heart willing to be still long enough to hear what God has been saying all along. And when you finally reach that layer of communion, something unmistakable happens—you stop viewing God as a distant figure you must impress and start recognizing Him as a Father who has been reaching for you since before you knew Him.

One of the great tragedies in Christianity today is that we have become incredibly educated about God while becoming increasingly unaware of God. We can quote verses without ever listening to the Voice behind them. We can discuss theology without cultivating intimacy. We can attend church for decades while never entering into true communion with the presence of God. We live in a generation that is over-informed and under-transformed. But transformation has never come from information alone. It comes from presence. It comes from encounter. It comes from the moments when God gently interrupts the rhythm of your day and invites you into something holier, quieter, deeper, and more meaningful than the noise you’ve been battling. And those invitations are happening more often than we realize. God does not visit the heart once and disappear. He knocks constantly. He speaks continually. He pursues relentlessly. The difference between those who feel God deeply and those who don’t often has nothing to do with God’s willingness and everything to do with our awareness.

After my encounter, I made a quiet decision that changed everything: I would build a life where God did not have to fight for my attention. I would build a life that welcomed Him instead of rushed past Him. I would build a life where my inner world stayed uncluttered enough for His voice to rise above everything else. And I want you to know that you can make that choice too. You can construct a rhythm of life where God’s presence becomes not an occasional moment but a daily reality. You can create a spiritual atmosphere around your life where God does not feel like a Sunday appointment but a continual companion. You can allow God to saturate your mornings, guide your afternoons, steady your evenings, and cover your nights. And not because you perform perfectly, but because you learn to surrender consistently. When a believer lives surrendered, God does not trickle in; He floods in. He pours into the space you create. He fills the silence you offer. He breathes into the openness you protect. And that kind of life becomes fertile ground for miracles, breakthroughs, callings, and a depth of faith that cannot be shaken.

As you begin this journey of making space for God in your daily life, something beautiful begins to unfold inside your spiritual awareness. You become capable of recognizing God in places you once dismissed as ordinary. You start hearing God in thoughts you once ignored. You begin sensing God’s nudges in the middle of your errands, your drives, your quiet moments at home. You start recognizing when He grabs your attention, when He shifts your internal atmosphere, when He settles your spirit or stirs it. You begin to see divine patterns in your days. You begin to notice spiritual signals you once walked past. You begin to understand that God has been speaking to you all along—you just weren’t in the mental posture to catch it. And once this awareness builds, your life becomes something it has never been before: a continuous conversation with God. Not a performance. Not a ritual. Not a duty. A relationship that breathes. A friendship that strengthens you. A companionship that transforms every room you enter because you walk in with Someone greater than yourself.

The extraordinary thing is that once you learn to create space for God, your spiritual hunger increases in ways you didn’t expect. You begin to want more of Him, not out of desperation but out of love. You begin to crave His presence because you have tasted what life feels like when God steps into the room, and nothing else compares. You start realizing that clarity comes not from overthinking but from listening. Strength comes not from striving but from surrender. Peace comes not from external control but from internal communion. And joy—deep, steady, unshakable joy—comes not from circumstances but from presence. When you live like this long enough, your faith stops feeling like a belief system and begins feeling like a shared life with God Himself. And once that happens, you will never again settle for shallow spirituality or casual Christianity. You will know too much. You will have experienced too much. You will have encountered God in ways that no argument, no doubt, no circumstance, and no hardship can take from you.

I want to leave you with this truth: feeling God’s presence is not reserved for the spiritually elite. It is available to you right now. You can begin today. You can start in the next five minutes. You simply have to make space. Quiet the noise. Slow your breathing. Remove distraction. Open your heart. Whisper something simple and honest such as, God, I’m here. That’s all it takes. When God finds a soul willing to be still, He fills it. When He finds a heart willing to listen, He speaks. When He finds a believer willing to surrender, He reveals Himself. God is not hiding from you. He is waiting for you. Waiting for you to pause. Waiting for you to breathe. Waiting for you to welcome Him into moments you thought were too ordinary for anything spiritual to happen. If you do that consistently—daily, slowly, intentionally—you will begin to sense God in ways you never imagined possible. Not because He changed, but because you did.

My prayer is that this legacy message becomes a turning point in your journey. That it awakens your awareness of God’s nearness. That it encourages you to build a life where God’s presence does not feel distant or occasional but constant, personal, and transformative. You do not need to chase spiritual fireworks to feel God. You simply need to create space. And when you do, God will step into the room in ways that will mark you forever. The moment you choose to make space for Him is the moment your life begins to shift into something deeper, truer, richer, and more anchored in His love than ever before. If your heart has been longing for more of God, if your soul has been aching for something deeper, if your spirit has been craving a renewed sense of connection—this is your invitation. This is your moment. This is the beginning of a new chapter in your walk with Him. Make space and watch what God does next.

Your friend,
Douglas Vandergraph

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