At dinner tonight, Evan told me he wanted to hold God’s hand.

I thought that was really cool.

Holding hands means remaining together.

When Evan was younger, we held hands for safety—crossing streets, walking through parking lots, moving carefully from one place to another.
Now that he’s older, we mostly hold hands to show affection. Snuggled on the couch during a movie. As he falls asleep.

The purpose has shifted.
Less guidance.
More presence.

I wonder if something similar happens as we mature with God.
Not that we no longer need His wisdom or direction,
but that relationship has been built.

We just enjoy spending time together.

Today I read Psalm 23, where God calls Himself a shepherd—
one who guides, directs, and leads us to places of peace and safety.

But the psalm isn’t rushed.
It lingers.
It assumes nearness.

Sometimes faith is trusting enough to hold hands
even when you aren’t sure where the path leads.

Like a sheep following the shepherd.

You may not know where you are going,
but you know the One who is leading you there.

Tonight, I decided I want to hold God’s hand too.