There is a sacredness that lives in ordinary moments. Not the loud, mountaintop kind of sacred. The quieter kind. The kind that slips into your life wearing your man’s favorite sports jersey on a lazy Sunday afternoon after Church, hair wrapped up in a messy bun, soul rested, heart slowly learning how to trust softness again.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how God remains.
Not just when life feels orderly. Not just when prayers feel answered in obvious ways. But in the everyday unfolding of intimacy… the kind that feels human, warm, and sometimes unexpectedly healing.
This Sunday felt like that.
After Church, we drifted into what has become our unspoken ritual — pajama Sundays. No rushing. No performing productivity. Just allowing ourselves to exist beside each other. I pulled on his favorite sports jersey, oversized and comfortable, the fabric carrying the faint scent of him. There is something quietly vulnerable about wearing something that belongs to someone you care about. It is closeness without announcement. Trust without speeches.
And in that moment, I felt it — God remaining in tenderness.
We spent the afternoon watching movies, eventually landing on Double Jeopardy. An older film, but one that stirred something deeper than entertainment. As the story unfolded, the betrayal by the husband was sharp and unsettling. What surprised me wasn’t the plot twist, but his reaction to it.
He was hurt by it. Not dismissive. Not detached. Hurt.
There was a visible discomfort in him as he processed the cruelty of a man who could betray someone who loved him. He spoke about it with genuine frustration, almost grief-like confusion about how someone could carry such intentions toward their partner.
And I watched him while he watched the movie.
Sometimes God shows up in sermons. Sometimes in scripture. But sometimes, God shows up in the way someone’s heart reveals itself when they are not trying to impress you. Just reacting. Just being.
There is a quiet safety in witnessing a man be moved by injustice against love. It tells you something words cannot. It reveals a moral tenderness that does not perform strength through hardness, but through care.
God remains in that too.
I am learning that divine presence is not reserved for grand spiritual awakenings. Sometimes it rests in the way someone reminds you to eat after a long day. The way they lean closer during a tense movie scene. The way they respond emotionally to pain that isn’t even their own.
God remains in shared blankets.
God remains in laughter between dialogue.
God remains in oversized jerseys and slow Sundays.
God remains in the soft rebuilding of trust after life has taught you to armor up.
For a long time, I believed closeness required vigilance. That love needed monitoring. That safety had to be negotiated constantly. But lately, I am experiencing intimacy that feels like exhale. Not perfect. Not fairy tale. But present. Intentional. Gentle in ways that feel spiritually grounding.
There is something holy about being allowed to soften without fear of being mishandled.
And maybe that is one of the most overlooked ways God stays with us — through the people who hold our tenderness with care.
We often search for God in clarity, answers, or control over outcomes. Yet I am discovering God also remains in the unfolding… in learning someone’s emotional language… in noticing how they respond to harm, to love, to vulnerability, to stories that mirror real life.
God remains in how we learn each other.
This relationship is teaching me that divine reassurance doesn’t always arrive as certainty. Sometimes it arrives as consistency. As presence. As small moments stacking themselves into quiet evidence that love can be both safe and deeply felt.
That afternoon, wrapped in comfort and movie light, I felt gratitude rise unexpectedly. Not just for him, but for the way God continues to show me that intimacy does not have to be chaotic to be passionate. That softness does not weaken connection — it deepens it.
There is holiness in ordinary love.
There is ministry in tenderness.
And there is God… still remaining… in all of our things.
Remain brave,
Michelle 🌿
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Scripture: “You make known to me the path of life; You will fill me with joy in Your presence, with eternal pleasures at Your right hand.” ~ Psalm 16:11
Reflection:
•Where have you experienced tenderness that felt spiritually safe?
•Have you allowed yourself to recognize those moments as sacred, or have you minimized them because they felt “too simple” to be divine?
©️Intimately Worded, Michelle.
Intimately Worded with Michelle 
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