Chasing Miracles and Missing God: The Call Back to Simple

For so long, I thought I had to do something to feel close to God. Chase something. Experience something. Feel something. My faith was always moving, always reaching for the next big thing.

I was right there in the thick of it, hands raised, voice loud, believing that if I just had enough faith, I could call things into existence, claim my healing, and walk in divine favour. And if things weren’t happening? Maybe I just needed to sow a little more, pray a little harder, declare a little louder.

I’m not just talking about churches or Christian conferences, but book after book that could help me get one step closer to revelation.

And so I ran full steam ahead. I ran from one movement to the next, one book after another, convinced that the answer was always just beyond my reach.

From the prosperity gospel teachers (I think we can all name a few) that told me if I just believed hard enough, tithed big enough, wealth and success would follow…

To the televised preachers that promised healing if I could prove my faith through giving obscene amounts by calling the number on the screen…

To the worship culture that blurred the lines between performance and praise…

To the supernatural movement where I craved signs and wonders as evidence of God’s presence…

To the feel-good grace message that told me God loved me just as I was-so much so that I didn’t really have to change. This opened the door to cherry picking the scriptures to fit the narrative I needed to feel okay, to justify my choices.

Decade after decade, I was searching. Trying to get closer to God. Trying to feel Him. Trying to find the formula.

But in all my running, I kept losing sight of what was right in front of me.

And then one day, I had to stop and ask myself:

Is God’s Word not enough?

Wasn’t the Bible-His living, breathing truth-enough for me? Or was I only content with it when it fit the narrative I wanted? When it affirmed my desires instead of convicting them?

I had to come face to face with something I didn’t want to admit: I am not my own maker of what’s right.

I don’t get to decide what truth is. He does.

And He is HOLY.

That word. Holy. It undid me.

Because holiness isn’t comfortable. It doesn’t bend to our preferences. It doesn’t shape itself around our feelings. It doesn’t bow to culture or our personal opinions. It just is.

And if I truly believed that, then my faith couldn’t be about chasing an experience. It couldn’t be about twisting Scripture to fit my life. My life had to be the one that changed.

So I stopped.

I stopped dissecting the Word, trying to manipulate it into what I wanted.

I stopped chasing the next movement, the next high, the next emotional moment.

I stopped searching for the “next thing” that would make me feel closer to God.

And instead, I sat.

I sat in the stillness.

I sat in the tension of conviction.

I sat with the Holy Spirit and let Him reveal what I had been too distracted to see.

And do you know what I found?

I found Him.

Not in the noise. Not in the hype. Not in the production or the spectacle.

Just Him.

And it was enough.

Because faith was never about being convinced by miracles.

It was never about measuring blessing by wealth or success.

It was never about chasing an emotional high or needing signs to prove He was near.

It was always about Him.

It was always about knowing Him, abiding in Him, trusting Him-even when He seems quiet. Even when it’s not spectacular. Even when all He asks is that we sit with Him in the stillness and let His Word be enough.

Love, Sarah x.

For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. - Hebrews 4:12

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