Why Do I Run From You?

“Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence?”
—Psalm 139:7

In the raw ache of grief, I’ve asked this more than once:
“Why do I run from You, Lord, when You’re the only one who understands me?”

It doesn’t make sense on paper. God is my refuge, my comfort, my healer. I know this. I’ve sung it in church, I’ve whispered it in the dark, and yet, when the pain crashed in—when my arms felt empty and my heart shattered—I didn’t fall into His. I pulled away. In those raw and early days of grief, instead of leaning into His presence, I often retreated. I numbed. I avoided. I distracted myself with anything that didn’t require eye contact with the One who already knew my sorrow. Because turning to Him in fullness would have meant feeling it all in fullness. And sometimes, that just felt like too much.

The Lie Behind the Running

When grief grips your soul, it exposes everything—fears, doubts, disappointments, even the quiet, hidden beliefs you didn’t know were there. For me, it exposed this: I wasn’t sure God was safe anymore. I believed He was sovereign. I believed He was good, in the grand eternal sense. But I didn’t know what He would do with my pain. I didn’t want a lesson. I didn’t want a silver lining. I just wanted my baby. And so I ran. I ran, not with my feet, but with my heart. I kept Him at arm’s length, afraid that if I opened the door too wide, He might let more sorrow in. But here’s the thing I’ve learned, slowly and tenderly, through the Word and in the whisper of His Spirit: God doesn’t push His way in—He waits. But He also doesn’t walk away.

He Doesn’t Shame the Runner

There’s no shame in your running. God is not surprised by your retreat. He isn’t offended by your silence or angry when you collapse in a heap of doubt. He just waits. Close, present, and steady. Think of Elijah, fleeing to the cave (1 Kings 19). Think of Jonah, running in the opposite direction (Jonah 1). Think of Peter, denying Jesus (Luke 22). Scripture is full of runners. And yet, God doesn’t cast them off. He meets them. He feeds Elijah, speaks gently to Jonah, restores Peter with the words, “Do you love Me?” He does the same with us.

He Invites Us to Bring the Whole Thing

Grief is not tidy. It’s not linear. It’s not something you package up and bring to God in a prayer journal with bullet points and tidy theological bows. It’s messy. It’s loud sometimes, and sometimes it’s just numb. But here’s the invitation: Come anyway. God can handle the flood of questions. The shaking fists. The exhausted silence. He isn’t asking you to fix it before you face Him. He just wants you to face Him. Because He is not outside your grief. He is in it—Emmanuel, God with us. Jesus, the Man of Sorrows. The One who wept (John 11:35), the One who sweat blood in agony (Luke 22:44), the One who cried out, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). He knows what grief feels like. And He will sit with you in yours.

When We Stop Running

When we stop running—even just for a moment—we find Him already there. Not demanding. Not fixing. Not explaining. Just present. Sometimes He speaks. Sometimes He holds us in the silence. Sometimes He reminds us of a promise we’ve forgotten. But always, always, He stays. And that presence, in time, becomes the very thing that begins to stitch the soul back together.

So Why Do I Run?

Maybe because it feels safer than falling apart in front of God? Maybe because I’ve believed lies about who He is? Maybe because grief is just so much and I don’t know what to do with it? I don’t know. But He knows. And He stays. Even when I run, He never does.

“Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
—Matthew 11:28

If You’re Prone To Run, Too, Pray This With Me Today 

Here I am, Lord.
I don’t have words.
I don’t have strength.
But I’m not running today.
Come sit with me in the sorrow.

Believing He will meet us right where we are friends,
Jennie

Jennie is the Executive Director for Hope Mommies. She and her husband Brian live in Washington State and have four children together— Trenton, Paige who has been in Heaven with Jesus since 2010, Mason, and Cora. If you were to knock on her front door today, you’d find her in something comfortable drinking a hot cup of tea, while trying to figure out how to balance all the things that make up a life. She enjoys spending time in God’s word, fresh flowers, board games with her kids, cooking, and evening walks in her neighborhood. She adores being a new creation in Christ and prays she reflects Him well on this earth.