How to Practice the Presence of God: Simple Steps for Everyday Life
- Trace Pirtle
- Jul 8
- 10 min read
Updated: Jul 25
Have you ever felt like an alien in your own church, longing for something deeper than Sunday morning faith? A 17th-century monk named Brother Lawrence discovered the secret to continuous conversation with God—not through complicated techniques, but through simple surrender. Join me as we explore how his ancient wisdom can transform your ordinary moments into sacred encounters, helping you practice God's presence whether you're washing dishes or navigating life's deepest valleys.
A Divine Appointment Across Centuries
It's hard to believe, but I just recently discovered a 300-year-old collection of conversations with God written by a French Carmelite monk, Brother Lawrence (Nicolas Herman, 1611-1691). Although we are separated by centuries in time, place, and position in life, I feel as if I have discovered a long-lost brother on a forest path along the sanctification road. It's like meeting a stranger in Bali, Indonesia, who is from your hometown in America and knows some of the same people you grew up with. There's an immediate connection. You feel you've known them forever.
God seems to arrange Divine Appointments like this—sometimes in person, sometimes online, sometimes through divinely inspired writings that survive the shifting landscape of cultures and worldviews. And God doesn't make mistakes when He brings people together for His purposes. He knows exactly what we need when we need it. Perhaps you need to hear what God says through Brother Lawrence and through our interaction here.
Maybe you've been feeling like an alien in your neighborhood church. If so, know that you are not alone. I've been feeling alienated from the comfortable surroundings of the contemporary church for 20 years. While I've always been considered a "church hopper," it's only recently that I've taken the leap to leave the church without leaving faith. I never wanted the label "Christian mystic" or even "contemplative" any more than I resonated with a denominational affiliation. I am simply a follower of Jesus—an ambassador of Christ—who desires a direct relationship with God. But isn't that what Christianity is supposed to be: a relationship with Christ rather than a religion?
It was a breath of Divine air when I read about Brother Lawrence's simple practices, which led to his profound relationship with God. As I've discovered, and Brother Lawrence wrote about, small daily habits—practices—of conversing with God in both the grand moments of the day and the insignificant moments while washing dishes or cooking a meal transform spiritual practice into a lifestyle, a style of life that places God at the center of all activities rather than compartmentalized on Sunday mornings.
Learning to Tune the Radio
While I was an "alien" in the pews of conformity, I always felt more alive and connected to God when the church doors opened and my spirit was released. When you have little in common with church family aside from the fundamentals of the Christian faith, it's easy to feel lonely while in the company of others.
Thus, it's not surprising that when I needed my spiritual batteries recharged, I found myself outside, alone, and in conversation with God. I talked with God while washing the car and while preparing for a suicide intervention. I shared with him my hopes and dreams, as well as my fears and failures. I spoke with Him when I needed advice and also when I was furious with Him. Through it all, He remained my loving Heavenly Father.
As I reflect back on "tuning in" to God's frequency, I don't recall establishing a structured plan for getting closer to God. It was more situational, more life-event driven, and usually in the valley pits while wallowing in the mud puddles of life or standing "high on a mountaintop, naked to the world." (Remember Eric Burdon and the Animals?) While in one of these remarkable "states," I could feel God's presence and hear His voice clearly. But in those early years, when I left the visceral "state" of the moments and moved to the somnambulistic "trait" condition of sleepwalking through my normal, professional life, God seemed to be Absent Without Leave (AWOL) from my life.
I would always rationalize the feeling of isolation from God as "He must be too busy with others to hang out with me." In reality, that was more likely a fear that He left me because I got out of the "flow" of His Word and into the current mainstream society, where He wasn't welcome in some circles I stood in.
But the more I learned and taught about "awareness in the moment" from Gestalt Therapy or "How to find meaning in every moment" from Logotherapy, the more I started blending my professional world as a counselor education professor to my life as a Believer. I know, it's supposed to be the Word informs the world, but in my case, God had to help me see what I had studied and was teaching had relevance for the work He would have me do later. It was at this point that I became as focused on my conversations with God as I was on preparing to teach a class of graduate students. That's when things started to change and theory was no longer academic, it was practical.
I've been asked about my experience of God when I converse with Him. Perhaps this will sound overly mystical, but I've been sweating profusely following a run, ready to collapse and say, "God, I could sure use some air right now!" Almost without fail, a perfect cool breeze would swirl around my body like a mini-tornado, cooling every part of my body. Once I felt better, the breeze calmed, leaving a peaceful stillness. Or other times when colors were intensified, almost fluorescent, while in contemplation of God's Divine creativity. Still, at other times, while in distress, the "Son's" rays wrapped me in a blanket of security that felt like, "It's all under control."
The more I practiced conversing with God, the frequency and intensity increased. I used to liken it to tuning the radio in my old 1965 Chevy Impala Super Sport—you turn on the radio and get static. But with patient turning of the knob, the signal comes through, first with static, and later a clear signal.
I find this metaphor appropriate when talking about being intentional in hearing from God. Soon, you realize which frequency God is on, and you go there immediately. I find that it takes practice and some fine-tuning to filter out the noise of the world and hear the truth of the Word.
Brother Lawrence discovered this same truth in his monastery kitchen. His "secret" wasn't technique—it was surrender. Complete abandonment to God's will, whether washing dishes or receiving communion. He didn't practice presence; he practiced abandonment.
The Paradox of Never Arriving
Some may question the validity of these experiences, but qualia is a fascinating phenomenon. The proverbial "acid tests" for me are these: First, is the perceived God's presence consistent with the nine Fruit of the Spirit? If so, it's likely from God because I'm still a sinner and don't always align with "Perfection." Second, does the perceived presence of God bear fruit? If so, it was likely a Divine encounter. Third, is it consistent with God's inspired, inerrant, infallible Word, the Holy Bible?
If you have ever been discouraged when the God signal didn't tune in when you had hoped, remember that He isn't at your beck and call. Lighten up on Him and yourself. Perhaps the conditions in the environment aren't right for a clear signal. Perhaps you need to search your heart and ask, "Is this really time for me to confront God about His failure to appear on command?"
Instead, roll down all the windows and let His breeze cool you down, and then roll up the windows and try again with a different heart and attitude. If He still doesn't answer, this is also a good sign. He has confidence in your grounding—with Holy Spirit minor course corrections—to step out in faith or to take a bold stand as an ambassador of Christ.
Sometimes, when we are in training, God says, "It's time to take the training wheels off... here ya go!... start peddling... I'm right behind you!" Doesn't that sound like a great Father? To have such confidence in Himself (in you) that He expects you to show what you can do through Him.
Will you wobble as you try to gain your balance? Yes. Will you occasionally crash on the sidewalk of life? Certainly. But with God, all things are possible. We just need to trust and obey. We need to know when to be active and when to be still.
Brother Lawrence experienced this same paradox. He distinguished between "acts of the presence of God" (conscious practices) and "the habit of the presence of God" (unconscious communion). But here's the key—he said even the habit requires constant renewal, constant "little interior glances" toward God. It's not spiritual autopilot; it's awakened rest.
I've discovered that keeping the conversation flowing and the practice going is like developing any other skill; that is, we follow levels of competence. We begin unconsciously incompetent because we aren't even aware that God wants a relationship with us. Then, we awaken...consciously incompetent...to the fact that He is knocking on our door, but we can't find the door knob to let Him in. Next, we become consciously competent and can find Him at church (sometimes) but then forget about Him the rest of the week. Finally, when we have practiced the presence for long enough, we enter unconscious competence because He and I are one. We just unconsciously default to a conversation with Him no matter what we are doing. It's second nature like driving the 65 Chevy Impala.
And this is the level when God raises the bar. It's the time when we can easily slip back into sleepwalking even though we are talking with God. You are talking to God in your sleep because it's now who you are, not what you do. But as in a dream, sometimes our words are unintelligible. At that moment, God throws a bucket of Holy water in our faces and says, "Wake up! You are about to run into that tree limb!" That's when you reexperience that "satori" moment when God's colors are bright, His voice is clear, and you are once again redirected to the narrow path that you wandered off of while sleepwalking.
I heard long ago about the paradox of the forest, that you never get out of it. Why? Because you start walking from the center of the forest and at some point, you are halfway to the end. Then, from there, you keep walking and arrive halfway to the edge of the forest. It keeps going to infinity. When we expect to be nearing the edge of the forest, and we realize we are still only halfway there, it's easy to become discouraged and decide to sleepwalk through the dense forest.
This paradox perfectly captures what Brother Lawrence called "the practice of faith." He said we never graduate from faith—we just learn to exercise it more naturally. Always halfway to the edge, always dependent on grace, always beginning again each moment.
Brother Lawrence learned to receive even the absence of feeling as God's presence, understanding that the practice isn't about perfecting our awareness but about perfecting our trust.
How to Practice the Presence of God: Simple Steps for the Never-Ending Journey
How do you practice the presence of God in your daily life? Here are some simple steps based on both Brother Lawrence's wisdom and the journey of discovery:
Start with honest conversation, not perfect technique. Write a letter to God, speak aloud as you drive, or simply think your prayers as you work. Don't worry so much about writing for God, just write a letter to God. You can't go wrong with this because it's personal,, and every moment you write Him a letter is one more second that you're conversing with Him, including Him in your life.
Test what you sense against Scripture and the Fruit of the Spirit. Does it align with God's character? Does it bear fruit, even if unseen? Is it consistent with His Word? These are the "acid tests" that help us discern God's voice from the noise of the world.
Embrace the ordinary moments. As Brother Lawrence discovered, communion with God is not limited to formal prayer or church services but can—and should—be continuous. God is just as present in washing dishes as in worship services.
Practice abandonment, not just awareness. Brother Lawrence's secret wasn't technique—it was complete surrender to God's will. When you feel disoriented in the fog of life, learn to say "Your airplane" to God and trust His navigation.
Expect the training wheels to come off. God raises the bar as we get closer to Him. When He gives you more responsibility than you feel capable of handling, remember that He has confidence in what you can do through Him. When you wobble, just cry out, "Lord, I believe... help me with my unbelief!"
Stay awake to avoid spiritual sleepwalking. Even when conversation with God becomes second nature, we can drift into autopilot. Be ready for those moments when God throws holy water in your face to wake you up and redirect you to the narrow path.
Remember you're always halfway to the edge of the forest. This isn't discouraging—it's liberating. The practice isn't about reaching some final destination of spiritual mastery but about the ongoing journey of faith. Always dependent on grace, always beginning again each moment.
Connect with fellow Narrow Path Pilgrims. For those of us who understand this language of the heart, we will always find each other whether on the island of Bali, the streets of Laredo, or through 300-year-old writings from Brother Lawrence. God brings us together for His purposes.
The Never-Ending Path
The journey of practicing the presence of God is less about reaching a destination and more about discovering that God is with us in every step, every clearing, and even in the moments when we're lost or sleepwalking. The point is not to hurry to the edge of the forest—it's to walk with God in the midst of it.
One of the many benefits of practicing God's presence is that our response to suffering, disappointments, and "dry spells" changes from anxiety to peace. Whether you're searching for the doorknob or riding without training wheels, whether you're executing confident loops in your spiritual flight or about to crash and burn, God is there.
The forest is not empty, and you are not alone. The Lord of the Path walks with you, and every step—clumsy or confident—is precious to Him. When you stop for a break, look up and give all glory and honor to your Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
May you find His presence in the ordinary, His voice in the silence, and His joy in the journey. And when you pause to catch your breath, may you look up and know: you are exactly where you need to be—on the narrow path, in the company of God, always halfway to the edge of the forest, always beginning again in grace.
Related Brother Lawrence Posts
--- *Trace Pirtle is a retired university professor, pilgrim blogger, and founder of Faith in Action Ministry, Texas Hill Country. He writes for Christians who refuse to settle for Sunday morning faith while prayer-walking the narrow path in Kerrville, Texas. Welcome home, pilgrim.
Well done!!!!!!!