Being Led by an Unseen Hand

By Max Lucado
A God-Intoxicated Heart

It’s a wonderful day indeed when we stop working for God and begin working with God. (Go ahead, read the sentence again.)

For years I viewed God as a compassionate CEO and my role as a loyal sales representative. He had his office, and I had my territory. I could contact him as much as I wanted. He was always a phone or fax away. He encouraged me, rallied behind me, and supported me, but he didn’t go with me. At least I didn’t think he did. Then I read 2 Corinthians 6:1: We are “God’s fellow workers” (niv).

Fellow workers? Co-laborers? God and I work together? Imagine the paradigm shift this truth creates. Rather than report to God, we work with God. Rather than check in with him and then leave, we check in with him and then follow. We are always in the presence of God. We never leave church. There is never a nonsacred moment! His presence never diminishes. Our awareness of his presence may falter, but the reality of his presence never changes.

This leads me to a great question. If God is perpetually present, is it possible to enjoy unceasing communion with him? In the last chapter we discussed the importance of setting aside daily time to spend with God. Let’s take the thought a step further. A giant step further. What if our daily communion never ceased? Would it be possible to live—minute by minute—in the presence of God? Is such intimacy even possible? One man who wrestled with these questions wrote:

Can we have that contact with God all the time? All the time awake, fall asleep in His arms, and awaken in His presence? Can we attain that? Can we do His will all the time? Can we think His thoughts all the time? … Can I bring the Lord back in my mind-flow every few seconds so that God shall always be in my mind? I choose to make the rest of my life an experiment in answering this question.


The words are found in the journal of Frank Laubach. Born in the United States in 1884, he was a missionary to the illiterate, teaching them to read so they could know the beauty of the Scriptures. What fascinates me about this man, however, is not his teaching. I’m fascinated by his listening. Dissatisfied with his spiritual life, at the age of forty-five Laubach resolved to live in “continuous inner conversation with God and in perfect responsiveness to His will.”

He chronicled this experiment, begun on January 30, 1930, in his journal. Laubach’s words have inspired me so much, I’ve included some key passages here. As you read them, keep in mind that they were not penned by a monk in a monastery but by a busy, dedicated instructor. By the time he died in 1970, Laubach and his techniques of education were known on almost every continent. He was widely respected and widely traveled. The desire of his heart was not recognition, however, but unbroken communion with the Father.


january 26, 1930: I am feeling God in each movement, by an act of will—willing that He shall direct these fingers that now strike this typewriter—willing that He shall pour through my steps as I walk.


march 1, 1930: This sense of being led by an unseen hand which takes mine while another hand reaches ahead and prepares the way, grows upon me daily…. sometimes it requires a long time early in the morning. I determine not to get out of bed until that mind set upon the Lord is settled.


april 18, 1930: I have tasted a thrill in fellowship with God which has made anything discordant with God disgusting. This afternoon the possession of God has caught me up with such sheer joy that I thought I never had known anything like it. God was so close and so amazingly lovely that I felt like melting all over with a strange blissful contentment. Having had this experience, which comes to me now several times a week, the thrill of filth repels me, for I know its power to drag me from God. And after an hour of close friendship with God my soul feels clean, as new fallen snow.


may 14, 1930: Oh, this thing of keeping in constant touch with God, of making Him the object of my thought and the companion of my conversations, is the most amazing thing I ever ran across. It is working. I cannot do it even half of a day—not yet, but I believe I shall be doing it some day for the entire day. It is a matter of acquiring a new habit of thought.



may 24, 1930: This concentration upon God is strenuous, but everything else has ceased to be so. I think more clearly, I forget less frequently. Things which I did with a strain before, I now do easily and with no effort whatever. I worry about nothing, and lose no sleep. I walk on air a good part of the time. Even the mirror reveals a new light in my eyes and face. I no longer feel in a hurry about anything. Everything goes right. Each minute I meet calmly as though it were not important. Nothing can go wrong excepting one thing. That is that God may slip from my mind.


june 1, 1930: Ah, God, what a new nearness this brings for Thee and me, to realize that Thou alone canst understand me, for Thou alone knowest all! Thou art no longer a stranger, God! Thou art the only being in the universe who is not partly a stranger! Thou art all the way inside with me—here…. Imean to struggle tonight and tomorrow as never before, not once to dismiss thee. For when I lose Thee for an hour I lose. The thing Thou wouldst do can only be done when Thou hast full sway all the time.


Last Monday was the most completely successful day of my life to date, so far as giving my day in complete and continuous surrender to God is concerned…. I remember how as I looked at people with a love God gave, they looked back and acted as though they wanted to go with me. I felt then that for a day I saw a little of that marvelous pull that Jesus had as He walked along the road day after day “God-intoxicated” and radiant with the endless communion of His soul with God.


What do you think of Frank Laubach’s adventure? How would you answer his questions? Can we have that contact with God all the time? All the time awake, fall asleep in His arms, and awaken in His presence? Can we attain that?

Is such a goal realistic? Within reach? Or do you think the idea of constant fellowship with God is somewhat fanatical, even extreme? Whatever your opinion of Laubach’s adventure, you have to agree with his observation that Jesus enjoyed unbroken communion with God. And if we are to be just like Jesus, you and I will strive to do the same.


God’s Translator

Jesus’ relationship with God went far deeper than a daily appointment. Our Savior was always aware of his father’s presence. Listen to his words:

The Son can do nothing on his own, but only what he sees the Father doing; for whatever the Father does, the Son does likewise. (John 5:19 nrsv)
I can do nothing on my own. As I hear, I judge. (John 5:30 nrsv)

I am in the Father and the Father is in me. (John 14:11 nrsv)



Clearly, Jesus didn’t act unless he saw his father act. He didn’t judge until he heard his father judge. No act or deed occurred without his father’s guidance. His words have the ring of a translator.

There were a few occasions in Brazil when I served as a translator for an English speaker. He stood before the audience, complete with the message. I stood at his side, equipped with the language. My job was to convey his story to the listeners. I did my best to allow his words to come through me. I was not at liberty to embellish or subtract. When the speaker gestured, I gestured. As his volume increased, so did mine. When he got quiet, I did, too.

When he walked this earth, Jesus was “translating” God all the time. When God got louder, Jesus got louder. When God gestured, Jesus gestured. He was so in sync with the Father that he could declare, “I am in the Father and the Father is in me” (John 14:11 nrsv). It was as if he heard a voice others were missing.

I witnessed something similar to this on an airplane once. I kept hearing outbursts of laughter. The flight was turbulent and bumpy, hardly a reason for humor. But some fellow behind me was cracking up. No one else, just him. Finally I turned to see what was so funny. He was wearing headphones and apparently listening to a comedian. Because he could hear what I couldn’t, he acted differently than I did.

The same was true with Jesus. Because he could hear what others couldn’t, he acted differently than they did. Remember when everyone was troubled about the man born blind? Jesus wasn’t. Somehow he knew that the blindness would reveal God’s power (John 9:3). Remember when everyone was distraught about Lazarus’s illness? Jesus wasn’t. Rather than hurry to his friend’s bedside, he said, “This sickness will not end in death. It is for the glory of God, to bring glory to the son of God” (John 11:4). It was as if Jesus could hear what no one else could. How could a relationship be more intimate? Jesus had unbroken communion with his father.

Do you suppose the Father desires the same for us? Absolutely. Paul says we have been “predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son” (Rom. 8:29 nrsv). Let me remind you: God loves you just the way you are, but he refuses to leave you that way. He wants you to be just like Jesus. God desires the same abiding intimacy with you that he had with his son.


Pictures of Intimacy

God draws several pictures to describe the relationship he envisions. One is of a vine and a branch.

I am the vine, and you are the branches. If any remain in me and I remain in them, they produce much fruit. But without me they can do nothing…. If you remain in me and follow my teachings, you can ask anything you want, and it will be given to you. (John 15:5, 7)


God wants to be as close to us as a branch is to a vine. One is an extension of the other. It’s impossible to tell where one starts and the other ends. The branch isn’t connected only at the moment of bearing fruit. The gardener doesn’t keep the branches in a box and then, on the day he wants grapes, glue them to the vine. No, the branch constantly draws nutrition from the vine. Separation means certain death.

God also uses the temple to depict the intimacy he desires. “Don’t you know,” Paul writes, “that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives in you and was given to you by God?” (1 Cor. 6:19 tev). Think with me about the temple for a moment. Was God a visitor or a resident in Solomon’s temple? Would you describe his presence as occasional or permanent? You know the answer. God didn’t come and go, appear and disappear. He was a permanent presence, always available.

What incredibly good news for us! We are NEVER away from God! He is NEVER away from us—not even for a moment! God doesn’t come to us on Sunday mornings and then exit on Sunday afternoons. He remains within us, continually present in our lives.

The biblical analogy of marriage is the third picture of this encouraging truth. Aren’t we the bride of Christ (Rev. 21:2)? Aren’t we united with him (Rom. 6:5 rsv)? Haven’t we made vows to him, and hasn’t he made vows to us?

What does our marriage to Jesus imply about his desire to commune with us? For one thing, the communication never stops. In a happy home the husband doesn’t talk to the wife only when he wants something from her. He doesn’t pop in just when he wants a good meal or a clean shirt or a little romance. If he does, the home is not a home—it’s a brothel that serves food and cleans clothes.

Healthy marriages have a sense of “remaining.” The husband remains in the wife, and she remains in him. There is a tenderness, an honesty, an ongoing communication. The same is true in our relationship with God. Sometimes we go to him with our joys, and sometimes we go with our hurts, but we always go. And as we go, the more we go, the more we become like him. Paul says we are being changed from “glory to glory” (2 Cor. 3:18 kjv).


People who live long lives together eventually begin to sound alike, to talk alike, even to think alike. As we walk with God, we take on his thoughts, his principles, his attitudes. We take on his heart.


And just as in marriage, communion with God is no burden. Indeed, it is a delight. “How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord Almighty! My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God” (Ps. 84:1–2 niv). The level of communication is so sweet nothing compares with it. Laubach wrote:


It is my business to look into the very face of God until I ache with bliss…. Now I like the Lord’s presence so much that when for a half hour or so He slips out of mind—as He does many times a day—I feel as though I had deserted Him, and as though I had lost something very precious in my life. (March 3, 1931; May 14, 1930)


Can we consider one last analogy from the Bible? How about the sheep with the shepherd? Many times Scripture calls us the flock of God. “We are his people, the sheep he tends” (Ps. 100:3). We needn’t know much about sheep to know that the shepherd never leaves the flock. If we see a flock coming down the path, we know a shepherd is nearby. If we see a Christian ahead, we can know the same. The Good Shepherd never leaves his sheep. “Even though I walk through a very dark valley, I will not be afraid, because you are with me” (Ps. 23:4).


God is as near to you as the vine is to the branch, as present within you as God was in the temple, as intimate with you as a husband with a wife, and as devoted to you as a shepherd to his sheep.


God desires to be as close to you as he was to Christ—
so close that he can literally speak through you and
all you need do is translate;
so close that tuning in to him is like putting on headphones;
so close that when others sense the storm and worry,
you hear his voice and smile.
Here is how King David described this most intimate of all relationships:

I’m an open book to you;
even from a distance, you know what I’m thinking.

You know when I leave and when I get back;
I’m never out of your sight.

You know everything I’m going to say
before I start the first sentence.

I look behind me and you’re there,
then up ahead and you’re there, too—
your reassuring presence, coming and going.

This is too much, too wonderful—
I can’t take it all in! (Ps. 139:1–6 msg)


David wasn’t the only Bible writer to testify to the possibility of a constant sense of God’s presence. Consider these staccato statements from the pen of Paul that urge us never to leave the side of our Lord.



Pray without ceasing. (1 Thess. 5:17 kjv)

Be constant in prayer. (Rom. 12:12 rsv)

Pray in the Spirit at all times. (Eph. 6:18)

Continue steadfastly in prayer. (Col. 4:2 rsv)

In everything … let your requests be made known to God. (Phil. 4:6 nasb)


Does unceasing communion seem daunting, complicated? Are you thinking, Life is difficult enough. Why add this? If so, remind yourself that God is the burden-remover, not the burden-giver. God intends that unceasing prayer lighten—not heighten—our load.

The more we search the Bible, the more we realize that unbroken communion with God is the intent and not the exception. Within the reach of every Christian is the unending presence of God.



Practicing the Presence

How, then, do I live in God’s presence? How do I detect his unseen hand on my shoulder and his inaudible voice in my ear? A sheep grows familiar with the voice of the shepherd. How can you and I grow familiar with the voice of God? Here are a few ideas:


Give God your waking thoughts. Before you face the day, face the Father. Before you step out of bed, step into his presence. I have a friend who makes it a habit to roll out of his bed onto his knees and begin his day in prayer. Personally, I don’t get that far. With my head still on the pillow and my eyes still closed, I offer God the first seconds of my day. The prayer is not lengthy and far from formal. Depending on how much sleep I got, it may not even be intelligible. Often it’s nothing more than “Thank you for a night’s rest. I belong to you today.”

C. S. Lewis wrote: “The moment you wake up each morning … [all] your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job of each morning consists in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other, larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in.”

Here is how the psalmist began his day: “Every morning, I tell you what I need, and I wait for your answer” (Ps. 5:3). Which leads to the second idea:

Give God your waiting thoughts. Spend time with him in silence. The mature married couple has learned the treasure of shared silence; they don’t need to fill the air with constant chatter. Just being together is sufficient. Try being silent with God. “Be still, and know that I am God” (Ps. 46:10 niv). Awareness of God is a fruit of stillness before God.

Dan Rather once asked Mother Teresa. “What do you say to God when you pray?”

Mother Teresa answered quietly, “I listen.”

Taken aback, Rather tried again, “Well, then, what does God say?”

Mother Teresa smiled, “He listens.”

Give God your whispering thoughts. Through the centuries Christians have learned the value of brief sentence prayers, prayers that can be whispered anywhere, in any setting. Laubach sought unbroken communion with God by asking him questions. Every two or three minutes he would pray, “Am I in your will, Lord?” “Am I pleasing you, Lord?”

In the nineteenth century an anonymous Russian monk set out to live in unceasing communion with God. In a book entitled The Way of the Pilgrim, he tells of how he learned to have one prayer constantly in his mind: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” With time, the prayer became so internalized that he was constantly praying it, even while consciously occupied with something else.

Imagine considering every moment as a potential time of communion with God. By the time your life is over, you will have spent six months at stoplights, eight months opening junk mail, a year and a half looking for lost stuff (double that number in my case), and a whopping five years standing in various lines. Why don’t you give these moments to God? By giving God your whispering thoughts, the common becomes uncommon. Simple phrases such as “Thank you, Father,” “Be sovereign in this hour, O Lord,” “You are my resting place, Jesus” can turn a commute into a pilgrimage. You needn’t leave your office or kneel in your kitchen. Just pray where you are. Let the kitchen become a cathedral or the classroom a chapel. Give God your whispering thoughts.

And last, give God your waning thoughts. At the end of the day, let your mind settle on him. Conclude the day as you began it: talking to God. Thank him for the good parts. Question him about the hard parts. Seek his mercy. Seek his strength. And as you close your eyes, take assurance in the promise: “He who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep” (Ps. 121:4 niv). If you fall asleep as you pray, don’t worry. What better place to doze off than in the arms of your Father.


Our faces, then, are not covered. We all show the Lord’s glory, and we are being changed to be like him. This change in us brings ever greater glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.

2 corinthians 3:18


Sunlight poured from his face.

matthew 17:2 msg