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When life feels uncertain, one truth remains: God is near.
In the rush of daily demands, His presence can feel easy to miss. Yet it hums in the hush of dawn, stirs in the rustle of leaves, and lingers in the afternoon light—inviting us to pause, draw close, and rest.
In Divine Presence… Melissa Giomi offers a sanctuary for the soul. Through heartfelt reflections, vivid imagery, and tender wisdom rooted in Scripture, these pages gently remind us that God is never distant. He is here—weaving beauty through both triumph and trial, meeting you in the smallest, most ordinary moments.
Whether you’re longing for peace, seeking hope, or simply craving a deeper connection, this book will guide you back to the assurance that you are never alone.
I like to start my mornings with hot, steamy coffee, talking to Jesus. The conversation isn’t always deep and theological; often it’s not. Sometimes our talks consist of me commenting on my garden and the bright, cheerful colors, or thanking Him for the gorgeous sunrise and the unique way He filters the light through the tree branches. Like a treasure hunt, I look forward to discovering all the ways He sets up the morning just for me. He does it for you, too. I feel loved, special, and wanted. Wanted. Not needed.
There’s a sweet, intimate feeling that comes with knowing that you are wanted and not needed. Being needed isn’t a bad thing. But for humanity, need often comes with expectations attached. Someone needs you to find a solution, needs you to take them somewhere, needs you to show up, take on, and fix whatever it might be. Sometimes another person’s need really isn’t ours to carry.
Jesus supplies all of our needs. He gives wisdom and discernment when there is a fork in the road, and I have choices to make. He provides safety and protection when threats appear, and I’m helpless to defend myself. He equips me with just enough to arrive at the end of each day—what I need when I need it.
As I stood in my garden thinking about this, I realized that not only do I need Him, but I want Him. I want to spend time with Him. I need to know that, in times of loneliness when I feel overlooked, forgotten, and passed over, He never leaves me and always has His eye on me. Apple of His eye. Perfect friend. It’s a wonderful thing to know that He loves to delight and surprise me with the very things He created me to love and crave. When I’m world-weary, I want to rest in His strong arms and know that I have permission to stay; I’m not a burden.
What a deep and mysterious love. I will never fully understand it this side of heaven, but I want it. I simply want more of Him. He wants me, and He wants you.
Jesus doesn’t need me. There is nothing I can do or handle for Him. I bring no skills that He lacks or wisdom that He seeks. All I can bring is myself. He loves me. He wants me. I am enough for Him. So are you.
Psalm 13:5-6 NLT “But I trust in your unfailing love. I will rejoice because you have rescued me. I will sing to the Lord because he is good to me.”
Psalm 18:19 NIV “He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.”
There are many hiding places in the heart. There are compartments, dark corners, nooks, and crannies. Compartments come in many shapes and sizes. They often contain to-do lists, work details, holiday plans, and the like. These compartments are easy to access. They are typically pleasant, if not monotonous, places to visit. The dark corners, nooks, and crannies are less friendly. Sometimes dusty and unkempt, these places in the heart hold memories; some pleasant, some preferred to be forgotten, or some softened with age, but still revisited occasionally for nostalgia’s sake. Sometimes these nooks and crannies hold things that caused embarrassment, shame, and guilt that we shelved away in boxes and were quickly forgotten. Maybe situations that were not resolved to our liking are stored here, to be resurrected and stewed over again and again. These places can usually be safely revisited and forgiven, even laughed at once the sting is gone.
However, carefully tucked away in a little-visited corridor of the soul is the heavily locked door, maybe many doors. These doors are toxic and forbidden. The corridors leading to them are oftentimes lined with traps, snares, and distractions to keep the unwanted visitor out, to protect, control, and deny entrance. If somehow the corridor is navigated and the traps avoided, the doors themselves are well armored to repel intruders. Thick and impenetrable, ugly, and seeping, these doors are repulsive with a cloying scent of decay and primal fear. The keyholes are rusted with disuse, and the hinges are stuck shut.
Somewhere in a closed-off part of your heart, you sense that all is not well down there in the deep recesses of the soul. You do remember. You can navigate the traps and snares in the long-ignored passageways because you put them there. With a disconcerting sense of focus, you walk the corridor that leads to the forbidden places. You will control them. As you stand in front of your door in a rare surge of bravery, you unlock it and force the door to open. The heavy keys clink to the filthy ground as they fall from your fingers. An overwhelming sense of hopelessness, sickness, and fear blow past you, as the toxic, decay-filled air swirls, threatens, and mocks.
“You can’t fix this,” a voice whispers, “it is far too late.” The boxes and bundles you see inside are angry, weeping wounds that none of your heavy bandaging seemed to stop. How long have you been bleeding like this? You worked so hard to cover, heal, and deal with these wounds! You bound them up tightly with the bonds of denial, saturated them with the balm of self-reliance, murmuring rote words of Christianese over them, willing them with your mind to stop seeping, stop oozing their filth. Yet somewhere far down, in your deepest soul, you know it didn’t work. You are still bleeding.
You venture in through the door a bit further, taking in all the chaos and violence that is trapped here. The door slams shut. Darkness is overwhelming, and taunting voices grow louder, shouting that you have no way out and that these wounds will never heal. The loneliness is palpable, and despair is closing in, threatening to remove all hope. Yet above the din of raucous laughter, you hear it; faint at first, but growing stronger, louder, and more insistent. Someone is knocking on the closed door! You see light on the other side! Stumbling, tripping, falling, you wrench the door wide, and there on the threshold of your vile door is the Light! This Light is not repelled by the darkness, the seeping, and the stench. It dispels it.
“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.”1
“Eat with me? In here? It is horrible, unsafe, and unclean,” you say. “I’m too ashamed to let You enter into this place.” The Light enters anyway, pushing through all the decay, fear, and chaos. As the Light passes by each of your weeping, oozing boxes, He stops and looks carefully and fully at all the damage wrapped up inside the haphazardly bandaged bundles. He sees it all. He never looks away. He sees every word, every action, and act of violence. He sees all the fear and hurt that created each wound. He acknowledges the pain and panic of all of it, and you begin to feel that heavy burden lift from your shoulders. He has taken it. He doesn’t turn away from the ooze and mess. He doesn’t look at your face with eyes of disgust and dismissal. Instead, the Light reaches into His robe of white and pulls out a lovely crystal bottle that shimmers and dances in the light of the Light. “These are your tears. I catch every single one. I rejoice over all of them because I turn them into your treasures.”
He turns back to the boxes and bundles and begins to bind them up and heal them, one by one. The rags of denial are replaced with linens of pure white, the balm of self-reliance is wiped away, and in its place, the oil of gladness is massaged in, bringing hope and wholeness. As He works, songs and words of Heaven pour from His lips. Healing. When He is finished, the stench and ooze are gone, replaced with spicy scents of freshness that hint at renewal and rebirth. You see this once forbidden, closed-off room as a renewed place of hope, testimony, and strength. There are crystal bottles lining the shelves where once your pain and secrets hid. In the center of your exposed and now beautiful room, you see a table is set, where you are invited to quench your hunger and thirst with the One who heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. “Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.”2
Psalm 139:13-18 “You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it. You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed. How precious are your thoughts about me, O God. They cannot be numbered! I can’t even count them; they outnumber the grains of sand! And when I wake up, you are still with me.”
So much is hurled at us about our outward appearance; our size, eye and hair color, skin tone, you name it—society has decided what is acceptable, and it is terribly flawed and destructive.
Think for a moment about something that is unique to you. Is it your laugh, smile, eye, or hair color? Do you have a unique sense of style or a quirky sense of humor? This unique part of you is a gift from God that was carefully thought out. It sets you apart as special. Imagine the conversations that took place in Heaven about you; the smile on the Creator’s face as He looked at His finished and perfected workmanship, you, and deemed you a beautiful masterpiece declaring you are created in His image. Will you look at your uniqueness and love it? Ephesians 2:10 says, “For we are all God’s masterpiece. He created us anew in Christ Jesus so that we can do the good things He planned for us long ago.”
Just as the Creator carefully planned each of your physical traits, He gifted you with inner beauty and the characteristics of Jesus—kindness, inclusivity, compassion, mercy, humility, and forgiveness. These traits have the power to draw people to you because they see Jesus shining through the vessel of your physical body. We have a God-sized space in our souls that longs to be known, loved, and accepted. Only God can fill that void. The more we look like Jesus on the inside, the more beautiful we become on the outside.
Think about the traits of inner beauty that you have been gifted with. Are you patient and laid back, or are you a confident, type-A go-getter? Perhaps you are kind and merciful. A dreamer or a realist? Maybe you are humble and gentle. Do you have compassion for those less fortunate? All these qualities are gifts given to you by a loving God who knows your strengths and weaknesses.
If you struggle to see yourself as a beautiful creation, a one-of-a-kind work of art, ask God to be your mirror. Ask Him to reflect back to you the beauty and loveliness He sees when He looks at you. He sees all the potential He placed in you. There is only one you, and you are enough.
Zephaniah 3:17 “The Lord your God is with you; His power gives you victory. The Lord will take delight in you, and in His love, He will give you new life. He will sing and be joyful over you.”
Be encouraged as you go about your day. Adventures & wisdom are waiting for you!
Divine appointments scattered along the way like beautiful treasures just waiting for you to find them. God is right beside you. He will show you where they are.
Have you ever been at church and experienced the uncomfortable feeling of not fitting in when it comes to how you encounter Jesus? Does it seem like the tried-and-true formula of experiencing Him doesn’t work for you or that you never fully arrive; are somehow found lacking? You watch everyone nodding in earnest agreement when the sermon urges you to follow the formula of reading the Word daily, for a specific amount of time, in a certain place, in a specific position, saying specific things, and following a proven formula to bring you close to Jesus.
However, your Spirit is not connecting with this, and your attempts at following these rote formulas fall flat. Everyone is nodding and looking sagely about them, confirming that yes, this is how it must be done. The closeness you felt to Him as you worshipped just moments before seeps away, as doubt and failure cloud your thoughts. “Yes,” says Satan, “you don’t fit in the body of Christ; you can’t even follow a simple formula to fill that void. Maybe you don’t belong.” Lies.
Hearing others say what we must do to be a strong Christian can be very crippling in our journey with Jesus. When you love Jesus, seek Him, and find Him, but are told it isn’t enough, unless a formula is followed, it wounds and taints something that should be precious, intimate, and deep. A stench of doubt permeates the very thing Jesus celebrates about us, our uniquely individual personalities. No one is identical, better, more loved, more cherished, or more valuable. We each have a specific purpose, and that is beautiful.
I react, buck, and kick at being boxed into a formula for doing anything in life, especially when journeying with Jesus. I may not always outwardly thrash at the formulas, but in my mind and spirit, I do.
Spiritual disciplines are wonderful, necessary, and amazing things we get to use, as our personalities dictate. Some will pour over His word, intently study, and soak it in; others will worship and dance to connect with Him; some will pray without ceasing; and some share Jesus with strangers, while others sit silently in His presence, soaking Him up. Some of us need nature with our senses fully activated, experiencing Him through sights, sounds, and the wind in our faces. It’s all good. So, go and connect with Him in the way He created you to. Be free and enjoy every second.
The coffee shop in the downtown square is a good place to pray. My small table towards the back of the shop gives me a perfect view of everyone who walks in for some warm, comforting coffee or sweet treat. A young man walks in and something about the way he stands catches my eye and tugs at my heart.
“Father, please reveal Yourself to this young man in the way He needs to see and hear from You. I ask for a divine encounter for him. You know what is on His mind and the choices that are before him. Please provide wisdom and peace in his decision making. Where he needs healing, please heal him. May He feel You close to him–protecting, guiding, and loving him. Please let him feel seen and known. I ask this in Your precious name, amen.”
Every Monday morning on my way to work with a non-profit food distribution center, I see the same unhoused man. He walks toward to park pushing the cart that contains his entire life. Each time I see him I feel such a need to pray for him.
“Father, please protect this man and his life that’s contained in his cart. You know every inch of him and all the things that led him to where he is today. Please change his circumstances according to Your will for him. Hold him close to Your heart, so he knows that he is loved, valued, seen, and safe. Where he needs Your healing touch, please heal him. I pray for provision and a safe place to sleep. Please send those who You call to be Your hands and feet to minister to Your son that you deeply love. In Your mighty name, amen.”
This beautiful Fall weather is perfect for a nice walk in the park. The leaves are turning, squirrels are out in abundance, birds are calling, and the air feels just right. The gravel path is strewn with fallen leaves and little pinecones that give a satisfying crunch underfoot.
Walking along the path, I see a young mom watching her 2 small children laughing and playing on the play structure. She seems content as she watches them running and playing, but her eyes look tired. I remember that look when my 2 kids were young.
“Father, give her strength and energy. Fill her cup with all that she needs to get through her day. Please remind her that she is a good mom, that You see her, that she’s doing the best she can, and that You’ve got her precious children in the palm of Your hand–safe, secure, deeply loved. I pray for moments of refreshing, peace, and uninterrupted time with You. May You put her on someone’s heart who can give her a break for a little bit and help where she needs it. Remove and rebuke the guilt that tries to invade her thoughts and her heart; it has no place there. Protect and shield her and her family. In Your compassionate name, amen.”
Everywhere you are and everywhere God leads you throughout your day is a good place to pray. Those encounters with another person who needs kindness, prayers, help, and a smile are not random coincidences. Everyone is special, beloved, and so precious to Him. Whether or not we agree with their lifestyle, their choices, who they love, or the way they talk, dress, or behave doesn’t matter. Our opinions on those things are of no consequence because Jesus LOVES them and died for them, just like He did for me and for you.
I believe that God strategically leads us to places, people, and circumstances as opportunities to be His hands, His feet, speak His words, and especially to pray. Divine appointments, divine opportunities, and divine encounters to partner with Him and love others like He does.
I often wonder who God asked to pray for me as I went about my day–shopping, walking, picking up kids from school, grabbing a coffee, sitting in the park holding back tears when life was overwhelming. I thank God for those who did. They didn’t know me, my background, my shortcomings, my sins, my life circumstances, or life choices, but someone, somewhere prayed for me and I am blessed that they did.
“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.” Psalm 19:1-4 NIV
The embers from last night’s campfire spark and crackle in the crisp, early morning air. There is still a bit of warmth that reaches me. Memories of the stories told, the s’mores eaten, and easy comradery flit through my mind.
Steamy tendrils drift and wisp from my coffee. The peace of this early hour soothes and refreshes from a night of deep, cozy sleep. The haunting call of an owl and far-off yips of coyotes were my lullaby.
Tender, new sun rays hover and glisten off the dewy drops clinging to the Redwood trees, the gems of the forest. Beauty in simplicity, Creator’s delight.
The scrub jays are the first to begin their chatter, soon joined by other light-dwellers as morning routines begin. Grey squirrels are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as they forage and chatter the morning gossip.
Thin veils of mist rise up from the thick Redwood bark. The misty swirls and eddies look like elusive forest sprites as sunbeams catch them for a moment, then release them to vanish into the maze of branches and vines. Magical. Mysterious.
As the sun rises higher and its warmth penetrates the forest canopy, more of nature’s choir join in the song: Chirps, croaks, chatter, and scolding echo through the trees. The rustles and cracks of disturbed undergrowth add to the harmony.
The voice of the forest is never truly silent. Creation blooms and swells with songs of delight and joy, rising up, up, up to His ears. The scent of old growth and fresh, bright pine mingle and blend with the nature songs—an incense of joy that wafts and twists upward in the crisp air, finding its way to the Holy of Holies.
The hot coffee is warm and soothing in my hands as I stand on the patio in the early morning chill. There is something hushed, lovely, and holy about the pre-sunrise time of day. It feels like a gift of time and preparation. The rush of daytime is kept at bay for just a bit. Peace can settle in and soothe, remnants of dreams that mystify or frighten can be looked at and let go, plans can be prayed over, and worries can be trusted into His hands. It’s sacred to me and I treasure it.
Tucked in under the horizon, the Autumn sun waits in the wings as the moon and stars cling to their last vestiges of dark. Soon she will begin her ascent with just the smallest hint of light tinting the inky sky. The light is coming. It always comes. It always illuminates and brings into focus the mysteries, the blurred edges, and the fears.
From the big tree in my front yard, I hear the hooting of an owl. It’s haunting, mysterious, and beautiful. Calming, yet eerie. Things may appear still and sleepy in the dark, but it’s actually full of life and activity. I hear the scratching and rustling of night creatures in the Jasmine and tall grasses at the edge of the yard taking advantage of the last moments of the cover of darkness.
The neighborhood begins to wake up as the light, yellow-y pink of the horizon shows itself in the East. I see His hand in the colors that wash the sky in its morning glow. Clouds highlighted in dabs and splashes of gentle color. I imagine God smiling as He paints such beauty for those of us who stop for a minute to look, to feel, to allow ourselves to be wrapped up in His delight and love. He is everywhere. He loves us.
