The other night, after bath time, I found myself sitting on the bathroom floor, holding my son wrapped up in his towel. His tiny body relaxed into mine, the warmth of the bath still lingering. At 3 months old, he doesn’t know much about the world, but he knows when he’s safe, when he’s held by someone who loves him. In that moment, his whole world is wrapped up in my presence, and that’s enough for him.
Sitting there with him, I realized how much we complicate things in life—how we think we need to do more, achieve more, and be more. But in that stillness, I was reminded that fatherhood, especially at this stage, isn’t about the grand gestures. It’s about being present. It’s about showing up. He doesn’t need me to have all the answers or to always know what’s next. He just needs me to hold him.
And as I sat there, I thought about how this mirrors my relationship with God. How often do I approach life the same way, always feeling like I have to be doing something? Yet God invites us into His presence, not because of what we can do for Him, but because He loves us for who we are.
This brings to mind Psalm 46:10: “Be still, and know that I am God.” It’s in the stillness that we remember His presence. So much of life is spent rushing, striving, and trying to keep up, but God calls us to pause and recognize that He is already here with us. Just as my son finds peace knowing I’m holding him, I find my peace knowing God is holding me. I don’t need to have everything figured out; I just need to be with Him.
In Matthew 11:28-30, Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” That’s the invitation we all have—the chance to lay down our burdens, to let go of our striving, and to rest in His presence.
Just as my son depends on me, I’m reminded how much I depend on God. And it’s not my perfection or my accomplishments that draw Him close—it’s simply being with Him, trusting that He will take care of the rest. In those quiet moments, when the rest of the world fades away, I remember that this is what matters most.
We often think the important moments are the big ones—the milestones and achievements. But in truth, the real work happens in the stillness. In the presence. Just as my son needs me to be there for him, I need to rest in God’s presence, trusting Him with the moments I don’t understand.
So I sit there with my son, learning the same lesson over and over again: it’s not about what I do, but about who I am with. Whether in fatherhood or in faith, the most powerful thing I can offer is simply my presence. And just as I hold my son, I trust that God is holding me.
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