The Porch of His Presence

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The Monk’s Journal: On Walking with God

This morning, I read again the old line:

“And Enoch walked with God, and he was not, for God took him.”
It stirs something in me every time.

What did it mean?
To walk with God—not to lead, not to follow from a distance, but to walk… with.
Beside.

Surely Enoch had faults.
He was born into the same earth I tread.
Yet somehow, he stayed close.
Close enough that when the time came,
there was no great separation between here and there.

I think he must have listened often.
Listened more than he spoke.
Watched the way leaves fell.
Noticed the cry of the wind.
Paused at the rustling of deer.

Perhaps walking with God is less about perfection
and more about attention.

I long for that kind of walk.
To be so near that I hear His whisper before the thunder.
To be so present that I forget the need to be seen by others,
and am satisfied to be seen by Him alone.

Maybe, when the day comes,
He’ll take me too—quietly,
from the edge of a path
worn smooth by our many steps together.