The night sky tells a story of pursuit. Stars send their light across impossible distances, traveling years just to reach our eyes. Galaxies pull toward each other against the universe's expansion. Even the moon follows the earth with faithful consistency, never tiring of the chase.
When we look at how God moves toward us, we see this same pattern magnified. Not a distant creator who set everything in motion and stepped away, but a Father who draws near, who seeks, who pursues with intention and desire.
We might think we're hidden, out of reach, but He always knows exactly where we are.
Most of us grow up with the idea that finding our way back to God is our job alone. That when we wander, the responsibility of return falls entirely on our shoulders. We imagine Him waiting at a distance, arms crossed, waiting for us to make the first move.
But Romans 8:38-39 paints a completely different picture. "For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God."
Those words aren't just comfort—they're a declaration about the nature of God's love. A love that doesn't just wait, but actively seeks. A love not hindered by our wandering or limited by our resistance.
Think about the stories Jesus told. The shepherd who left ninety-nine sheep to find the one that wandered off. The woman who turned her house upside down searching for a lost coin. The father who ran—actually ran—to meet his wayward son while he was still a long way off.
These aren't stories about how hard we need to work to get back to God. They're glimpses into His heart—a heart that searches, sweeps, and sprints toward us.
When we feel furthest from God, that's often when He's moving most decisively in our direction. Not with condemnation, but with compassion. Not with a list of our failures, but with a love that redefines what it means to be found.
In your own life, look for the evidence of His pursuit. It might be in the friend who checked on you for no apparent reason. The song lyric that cut straight to your heart. The unexpected courage to take a step you'd been avoiding.
God's pursuit isn't something we earn or deserve. It's simply who He is—a Father who will cross any distance, climb any mountain, and clear any obstacle to bring His children home.
And perhaps the most beautiful truth is that He pursues not because we're perfect, but precisely because we're not. Not because we've got everything figured out, but because He knows we never will—and He loves us anyway.
No matter how far you've wandered, how dark the night feels, or how lost the path seems, His pursuit continues. Steady. Unwavering. Relentless. Because a love that stops pursuing isn't love at all.