The God Who is Close

As we begin this final exploration of Daniel 10, I want to focus on a detail that becomes almost impossible to ignore once you notice it. Crazy enough, It isn’t the description of the heavenly messenger. It isn’t even the glimpse behind the curtain into the unseen conflict surrounding God’s purposes. I’ve been open about how captivated I am by these details. It makes sense. They naturally capture our imagination. But as I have continued returning to this chapter to write this series, another detail has subtly risen to the surface. I think it’s something God wanted me to notice eventually. Before we go any further, I want to point out here that this is how this incredible book works. The more we read it, the more it reads us. I think this is partly what it’s talking about when it says it is active. In fact, I may have noticed this specific detail because it’s a place in my heart, one of those rooms, that needs some sunlight and fresh air.

Repeatedly, the messenger chooses to touch Daniel.

The chapter almost develops a rhythm around it. Daniel collapses beneath the weight of what he has seen, and a hand touches him. He struggles to find his voice, and another touch strengthens him. Later, after once again confessing that all his strength has left him, he is touched again. Between those moments come the repeated words, “Fear not,” “Peace be with you,” and finally, “Be strong and of good courage.” By the end of the chapter, Daniel is standing again. He is listening. He is ready to receive what still must be told to him.

It would be easy to read those touches as a necessary detail because humans are weaker than spiritual beings. Daniel is weak, so the messenger, who is strong, strengthens him. But the repetition makes me think something much more intentional is happening. Scripture rarely repeats itself without inviting us to pay closer attention, and Daniel 10 repeats this pattern often enough that it begins to feel like part of the message itself - at least part of what it’s trying to teach me.

This detail has caused me to consider again the way I think about and teach about spiritual growth.

Again, our modern systems are built around the assumption that information is what changes people. If we understand enough theology, read enough books, or attend enough Bible studies, then we will naturally become stronger and more capable disciples. We definitely don’t say it that way, but most of our Christian environments reveal that we believe it. We pray for understanding because we assume understanding will produce strength and wholeness.

I don’t want you to miss this because for a long time I have:

Daniel’s experience unfolds in exactly the opposite direction.

By the time the messenger begins explaining what has been happening, Daniel already possesses information that would change the way most of us understand the Christian life. He learns that his prayers were heard from the first day. He discovers that his story has been unfolding within a much larger story. He is given one of the clearest glimpses in the whole Book into the reality of spiritual warfare. But, none of that information gives him his legs back. His understanding grows more quickly than his strength does. Sometimes, even character doesn’t automatically mean capacity.

I find this part of the story very comforting because it reflects something many of us have experienced but struggled to explain. There are seasons when we understand far more than we are presently capable of carrying. We know God is faithful, but grief still overwhelms us. We know He is near, but loneliness remains so strong we feel nearly forced to medicate it. We believe forgiveness is good and necessary and available, but our hearts are still learning how to let things go. Understanding is essential, but it has never been the whole work of God. In the mostly godly environments God has exposed me to, information is only the warm up.

I think this is why the messenger doesn’t just speak to Daniel.

He moves in and reassures through touch. In Bible speak, we call this drawing near. It seems that even on a supernatural plane, we mirror what’s been modeled for us. God loves to draw near. Maybe the messenger had even experienced this in his own story.

I understand this may sound almost too simple, but I think we underestimate how often the the Book reveals God’s work through His presence. Long before Jesus arrived as an infant, God was already moving toward His people. He walked with Adam and Eve in the garden. He met Moses on the mountain. Then, most surprisingly, in Jesus, the distance closed altogether.

God did not merely send better information into the world. He entered it Himself.

Forgive me for returning to this, but on 2 South in Jackson, Mississippi, just one year ago, it was not information that sustained my heart. It was presence. Cammie’s presence as she cared for me day after day. My pastor, Nathan Chapman, was there with communion and sent a recording of him playing a song that Cammie and I both needed to hear. Steven Sahler sat at the end of my bed when I was so medicated I could barely speak. Brad Ingram was the first face I saw when I woke up from surgery. His smile greeted me into an afternoon I thought would end without me at all. God used Brad from day one, but that’s a story for another post. My parents and in-laws sat at the hospital for hours and hours just to be a presence. Erin, my night nurse for a week straight, held everything together without missing beat. Wade Christopher, my surgeon, has spent his life honing a skill that in the end saved mine. This post can’t be long enough to celebrate everyone who made an impact through presence, but I think I’ve made my point. It’s time for all of us, especially the church to wake up to this:

Presence over performance. Presence over performance.

The ministry of Jesus carries that same pattern. He definitely taught, better than anyone ever has, but He also touched. Lepers who had not been embraced in years felt His hand. Blind eyes were opened beneath His fingers. Children were welcomed into His lap. A frightened woman reached for the edge of His garment, convinced that even the smallest contact with Him could change everything. Again and again, the Book reminds us that the kingdom of God arrives not just through proclamation but through presence. God places no value on loving from a distance.

I wonder if that is one of the reasons transformation is almost always relational.

In my life, one of the greatest gifts of pursuing emotional health has been understanding that my heart cannot be healed just by someone explaining cause and effect in my story. I actually began healing when truth was carried to me through relationship, truth that knew my heart enough to keep it in mind on delivery. A frightened child does not need a lecture; first they first need love. A grieving friend rarely needs immediate answers. They need someone willing to sit beside them, suffering the uncomfortable waters of uncertainty. Even our own stories are often rewritten not because we finally think differently, but because someone remains present long enough for trust to grow where fear once lived. Trading fear for trust is one of the hardest exchanges for the human heart.

When I read about Daniel’s experience that day, it feels very similar.

The messenger never shames his weakness.
He never treats Daniel’s collapse as failure.
He never asks him to gather himself together before continuing the conversation.

He commits to drawing near. He strengthens him enough for the next sentence, then enough for the next one, and finally enough to stand. There is something very gracious about that progression because it reminds us that God is never in a hurry with our formation. He does not demand from us strength that we don’t have yet. He patiently gives it. Keep in mind, this messenger was a warrior. He possessed strength way beyond what we can imagine. Still, he knew what Daniel’s overwhelmed heart needed. Reassurance through touch. Fascinating.

As I have reflected on this chapter over the last few weeks, I have found myself wondering if this is one of the intentional patterns running beneath the whole story of the Bible. God rarely prepares His people by removing the weight of reality. I have spent my adult life wishing that was the way that it worked. It just doesn’t. More often, He prepares us by giving us more of Himself. The burden may remain. The calling may remain. What changes is that His presence steadily increases our capacity to carry what once would have crushed us.

Just to let this sink in a little further, here’s how God put it:

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. (Isaiah 41:10)

And, Jesus ends up saying something very similar a few generations later:

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30)

Do you notice the invitation to presence in those verses? How would we take the yoke from Jesus unless we had first been with him? What difference does gentleness make from a distance? How would we find something we never moved toward to look for? Invitation. When you start looking for it, it’s everywhere in the Bible.

I now believe this is why Daniel is finally standing by the end of the chapter.

It isn’t because every mystery has been resolved. Not because the future has suddenly become easier or the conflict has disappeared. Daniel is standing because the God who revealed the larger story also refused to leave him alone within it.

It is not good that the man should be alone...” (Genesis 2:18)

As we look back over these four explorations, I want you to see how they all fit together. There is an order here in this chapter.

• Spiritual maturity begins with a heart willing to seek understanding instead of demanding certainty.

• That heart is reminded that it is incredibly loved before it is asked to carry difficult things.

• That same heart slowly discovers that life is unfolding within a story far larger than it can see.

• And lastly, it learns that none of those realities can be lived apart from the presence of God Himself.

Daniel 10 announces with confidence:

The God who calls His people into difficult places never leaves them to walk there alone. This is still God’s pattern.

I get it, most of us are not anticipating visions. We are just trying to stay in the fight—to love our families well, to forgive past hurts, and to do all the other difficult things we are asked to do. Remember, Daniel 10 reminds us that none of those ordinary acts of faithfulness are ever ordinary. They take place inside the larger purposes of God. They are held in place not just by better thinking, but by the intentional nearness of God, who has promised never to leave us or turn his back on us. (Hebrews 13:5)

Until we are together again, I pray you develop the resolve to keep turning your heart toward understanding. And keep your chin up. You’re already loved more than your efforts can earn or your failures can disqualify. That’s really good news.

Next series, we’ll leave the Old Testament and walk a very different road—a street in Damascus called Straight. There we’ll meet a disciple named Ananias, an ordinary man asked to do something extraordinary. God tells him to walk toward the very person everyone else is running from. It is a story about fear, courage, obedience, and what it means to trust God more than our own instincts. I have a feeling many of us know that street better than we realize.