Many people puzzle over the question that is the title of this blog post. What is it supposed to mean to ” have a relationship with God?” It kind of freaks us out to think of trying to relate to a being who is eternal and all-powerful that we can’t even see! I have to say, that used to freak me out too.

As I’ve explained before, my mom had serious mental health issues, and these resulted in her doing a lot of things that ended up being neglectful, abusive, and traumatizing. But for all her shortcomings, having a relationship with God was an area in which she excelled.

For her, it did not seem strange to walk around speaking to God aloud.

She taught me there was nothing wrong with this, and that he would answer back if I listened. She often claimed to have heard him aloud (and doubtless at least part of that was from her delusions, though only God knows if that’s all it was), but she also told me that God speaks to us in many different ways. She taught me that I could hear his words through listening to radio or TV broadcast about him, reading my Bible, and that God would even send confirmation of his messages through the words of friends who were following him. Most importantly, she taught me it was okay to be completely honest and tell God anything because after all, he already knows our hearts.

I was still afraid of God, but the first time I decided to try talking to him was when I was 6 years old. The year before my parents had, for reasons I still don’t completely understand, left me at the home of friends in a strange Texas town for one or two months (I can’t remember exactly because I was five, and there’s no one left alive to ask). There was so much turmoil in my home (my parents fought a lot) and the uncertainties of life during that time (we had been kicked out of our apartment and ended up staying with a relative to keep from being homeless), and I also developed a fear of the dark. All of these things put together cause me to have severe problems sleeping at night. I can remember getting out of bed, sitting in my little chair in my closet, and trying to read my Bible. As tears flowed down my face, I sang a children’s song I had heard on Christian radio – “you can whisper in a crowd to Him, you can talk right out loud to him…He’s always there.” God, I need to know if you’re here with me, I prayed inside my head. After all, the song also said God knew my thoughts. Somehow, I always managed to calm down enough to go to sleep.

Later, as things grew more tumultuous, my mother’s delusions got worse, and her fears went through the roof, I would go outside to walk the gravel driveways of my Granny’s property and talk to God about it.

I always felt his presence, and knew he was with me and I wasn’t facing all of the scary things in my life alone.

By the time I was a teenager, my mother had left my father. She soon basically relinquished all household responsibilities to me. I quit school and got a voucher so I could take a job at 15, and almost immediately became an adult. Soon after that, I began filing taxes as head of household. I paid all the bills, did the shopping, and carted our clothes down to the neighborhood laundromat and back.

When Mama’s physical health worsened in my late teens, I took her back and forth to the hospital and doctor visits. I talked to God a lot by this time, and quite often out loud if I was outside or in my car. Once again, I felt the reassurance that he was there with me. Mama got me a Bible promise book that had verses to read if you were feeling anxious, or helpless, or stressed. I was feeling every topic listed in it’s table of contents, so I read them all, and that was another way God could speak to and reassure me.

Finally, while she was in the hospital, I decided to find a church I could attend. As a child, I had attended with my Granny (the aforementioned relative who saved us from the streets) but hadn’t had the chance to find a church since we’d moved. Mama didn’t trust churches, and always stayed home on Sundays. I found myself in a church whose pastor was soft-spoken and uplifting, and whose music was soothing. This became yet another way God could speak to me.

Now that I’ve matured and have a relatively stable life, it may surprise you to know I still talk to God.

Oh yes, I do pray to him inside my head, but I mean I actually talk to him. Out loud. I whisper my concerns to him in the early morning fog. I thanked him aloud for every tree and flower and bush and type of grass and animal on walks around the back of my property. I talk to him in my car on the way to work, and on the long road trips I love making to see family in faraway states. Quite often, I feel he’s right there beside me.

We humans have made God inaccessible; allowed ourselves to believe the lie that says he’s too far away, or too high and mighty to care about our little lives. But I can tell you, there were many times especially in my young life when I was suicidal. There were many more times , stretching through my teens and adulthood when I simply did not want to live. (A therapist might say these are the same, but I would draw a distinction between times when I actively wanted to kill myself vs. times when I passively did not want life to continue.)

My despair was so great that if I had not been able to feel God’s sweet presence around me as I was growing up, and known he cared about was watching over me, I am certain I would have taken my life at a very young age.

I’m here to tell you, no matter what your situation, God is there with you right now. You have only to speak to him, and he will faithfully commune with you. All you have to do is open your mind and heart.

I’d love it if you’d share your experiences and what a “relationship with God” means to you. Hit me up in the comments!