When What You Know Doesn’t Reach Your Heart
When What You Know Never Reaches Your Heart: Breaking Free from Daddy Wounds, Church Culture, and a False View of God to Finally Rest in the Truth—You Are Loved, Even When You Don’t Feel It.
I’ve known all my life that God loves me. My teachers taught it to me early; I memorized the verses and heard the sermons. I believed it in my head.
But my heart told a different story.
Somehow, deep down, I still felt like a disappointment. Like I was on thin ice with God, I believed He was good, but I wasn’t sure He was pleased with me. I thought His love was mostly theoretical. A distant, polite love. Maybe even reluctant.
I knew I needed to pursue God—that much was clear—but I didn’t realize that He was already pursuing me, that He had always been pursuing me.
I was trying to reach for someone who had never let go.
My theology said God forgives sin. But emotionally? I still imagined Him frowning, arms crossed, waiting for me to get it right finally. I thought I had to clean myself up before I could really belong. I thought I needed to show how sorry I was. Prove I was serious. Beg hard enough. Cry long enough. Maybe then He’d help me. Maybe then He’d stay.
But I had it completely backwards.
That’s the thing about the gospel. You can recite it and still not know it.
Jesus didn’t just die because of our sin. He died with it, as us. He wasn’t shocked or disappointed by it—He took it into Himself. He carried it away and gave us His own righteousness in return. Not someday. Already. Now.
The cross wasn’t God becoming angry enough to kill His Son. The cross was love in action. God Himself came to us, as one of us, to carry us home. This wasn’t Plan B. This was the plan from the start.
God isn’t reluctant. He’s not holding back. He’s the one who came running.
I used to beg God to come be with me. I didn’t understand—He was the one who wanted to be with me before I even thought to ask. He was never far off. He was already there. Already loving and already working. Already enough.
I kept praying for what I already had.
See, we can live with a huge disconnect between head and heart. We can nod at truths while living like they’re not true. And that’s not a failure of faith—it’s a misunderstanding of what faith is. Faith isn’t striving to believe harder. It’s seeing clearly. It’s waking up to what’s already true.
Grace isn’t something you earn by trying harder or feeling sorry enough. Grace is the truth about who God is and who you are to Him. And when that truth sinks from your head into your heart, everything changes.
You stop chasing after a God who’s already with you.
You stop begging for what you’ve already received.
You stop trying to become who you already are in Him.
And you start living in the freedom of love that was always yours.
Already Enough
I’ve known the words since I could speak—
"God loves you," they would always teach.
I learned the verses, sang the songs,
But somehow still, I got it wrong.
I knew the facts, I knew the line,
But couldn’t feel it deep inside.
My heart still whispered, “Not quite right,”
“Maybe tomorrow—not tonight.”
I pictured God with folded arms,
Disappointed by my flaws and scars.
A love that felt more like a deal—
Behave just right, then maybe He’ll feel.
So I chased Him hard with shame in tow,
Tried to impress, to earn, to show
That I was sorry, that I cared—
Maybe then He’d know I dared.
But here’s the truth I couldn’t see:
The one I sought was chasing me.
I reached for One who held me close,
Who never left—who loves the most.
His love was never “wait and see,”
It wasn’t held back grudgingly.
He wasn’t cold or keeping score—
He ran to me, then ran some more.
I thought the Cross was God enraged—
But love, not wrath, was on that stage.
He didn’t crush His Son in hate—
He bore my sin to liberate.
He died as me, not just for me,
And gave me grace to set me free.
No proving left, no weight to bear—
His finished work says, “I was there.”
And still I prayed, “Lord, please draw near,”
Not knowing He was always here.
I begged for what I had all along—
The gift, the grace, the welcome song.
So now I rest—no more pretend,
No need to earn, no need to mend.
I’m not a guest. I am His child.
No longer lost, but reconciled.
Faith isn’t sweat or louder cries—
It’s waking up with open eyes.
It’s seeing Him for who He is,
And knowing I already live
In love that holds and doesn’t shake,
In mercy that won’t bend or break.
I don’t have to chase, impress, or strive—
I'm in His heart. I’m fully alive.
So let this truth sink deep and stay:
You’re loved by God—right now, today.
Not once you try, or get things right—
But here, right now, in morning light.
No need to earn. No mask to wear.
You’re already His. He’s always there.
You don’t become what you already are—
You just come home… to where you are.