More Than Words | Experiencing God Is More Than Knowing About Him

I recently sat in an IMAX theater with my wife watching Brad Pitt’s new Formula One movie—massive screen, roaring engines, high-speed beauty. I didn’t walk in expecting a spiritual revelation, but there I was, halfway through the popcorn bucket, realizing this was the best analogy I’ve seen for the Christian life in a while.

Formula One cars are marvels of engineering. NASA-level precision. Thousands of hours of testing, calibrating, and instruction. But none of it matters unless someone actually gets in the driver’s seat and hits the track.

Knowing about the car isn’t the same as driving it.

And for a lot of people, that’s the story of their faith, too. They’ve studied the theology, memorized the creeds, and quoted the Scriptures. They’ve got the manual in their glove box. But they’ve never actually experienced the presence of God. They’ve never driven the car.

As far as the instruction manual goes, Paul told Timothy that “all Scripture is God-breathed and useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness” (2 Timothy 3:16). But like he also said: it’s only useful if it’s used properly. (2 Timothy 2:15) And “properly” isn’t twisting it to win moral battles online or building theological ivory towers. It’s letting Scripture draw you into a relationship with the living God—not just a library of doctrine.

It’s the difference between watching a cooking show and tasting the meal.

Between reading about love and falling in love.

Between memorizing Jesus’ words and knowing the One who spoke them.

That’s what I want to talk about.

Because in my life, I haven’t just believed in God—I’ve experienced Him:

• I felt His presence like a warm embrace as an 11-year-old kid, sobbing in bed the night my dad left. I wasn’t just comforted. I was held.

• I’ve worshiped with others and sensed Heaven—not as a distant promise, but a right-now reality.

• I’ve watched five-year plans wrapped in fear and anxiety turn into five-year reflections wrapped in awe. Not because life went to plan, but because even the detours became something better than I could’ve imagined.

• I’ve experienced God across the table from couples in crisis—when I had nothing to offer, and yet the words came. Not from me, but through me. Every time I get out of His way, He shows up.

• I’ve seen God in the Church—not the institution, but the people. I’ve watched believers feed the hungry, care for the sick, and love the lonely in ways that echo Jesus Himself.

• I see God in my daughter’s kindness. I feel Him in my son’s empathy and fire.And I know Him every time I look at my wife and think,“Only God could’ve convinced her to marry a guy like me.” (Seriously. Divine intervention.)

And yeah, I experience Him when I blow it. Ironically, it's usually when I'm driving on the Arizona roads with the intensity of an Formula One driver. But even then, His conviction is a sign of His presence—not His absence.

See, theology is beautiful. It’s essential. But it was never meant to be the end. It’s the road map. The pit stop. The communication headset. But the goal? The goal is the relationship. The goal is the drive. The experience.

Jesus didn’t die for you to master theology. He died for you. To know you. To walk with you. To love you.

That’s the difference between the wide gate and the narrow road. One knows about Him. The other actually knows Him.

And once you experience Him, truly experience Him—you may (and should) still wrestle with theology. You may still have doubts (and should). But you’ll never again doubt His presence.

So wherever you are—believer, skeptic, somewhere in between—I want to encourage you to try something that may feel strange. Take a breath. Still your soul. Close your eyes and whisper something—anything. Even if it feels awkward. Even if you’re not sure anyone’s listening. Try this: “God, if You’re real… I want to know.”

Then wait. Because He’s not playing hide-and-seek. He’s already closer than you think. He’s just waiting for you to get behind the wheel.