What does "feeling close to Jesus" mean?

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AlanFromWichita

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I’ve heard this a lot.

“When I pray this way, I feel close to Jesus.”

“I haven’t felt very close to Jesus lately.”

What does being close to Jesus feel like? Honestly?

I feel all sorts of ways and I feel one-ness with Jesus but that isn’t really a “feeling” for me, most of the time. I do feel peace, comfort, joy, and other fruit of the spirit, but that doesn’t “feel connected to Jesus.” It just is. Like saying “I feel like I’m in this room.” It’s about fact, not feeling. But that’s just me, and that’s just right now – ask again in five minutes I may have a different take on it. 😛

So I’m interested in what others say about this. References to literature are OK, but I’m hoping to hear people speak personally from their heart. Let’s open up, shall we? There are no wrong answers, and if there come to be any posts on this thread I think are rude to other posters, I’ll whip them with a wet noodle! :knight2:

Alan
 
I don’t know for sure what people mean when they say they “feel close to Jesus” but I know what a visible side effect should be. They should look at their fellow human beings and see Jesus. If they don’t feel love for their fellow humans, particularly those who are not their friends then I doubt the sincerity of “feeling close to Jesus”

If you love Jesus you will love everyone else.
 
I don’t know for sure what people mean when they say they “feel close to Jesus” but I know what a visible side effect should be. They should look at their fellow human beings and see Jesus. If they don’t feel love for their fellow humans, particularly those who are not their friends then I doubt the sincerity of “feeling close to Jesus”

If you love Jesus you will love everyone else.
:amen:

👍
 
I think this could mean a whole series of things. Closeness comes in many forms. Sometimes when I feel “close” to Jesus, I feel a warmth in my heart. A fire, sort of. It’s a burning sensation that I can feel go through my chest, down my arms, through my toes… It brings tears to my eyes. I have only encountered that a handful of times, but even the memory of it brings me peace because I know Christ can and will touch us.

Other times, a “close” feeling to Jesus simply is an intangible feeling of assurance for me.

And sometimes, when my daughter climbs into bed with me and snuggles into my arms, she’ll put her head onto my chest and her hand onto my cheek and I will feel so much love, such a deep and gratifying love… and I think to myself that this must be, in some way, what Christ feels for us when we fall into His arms in prayer. That also reminds me of a closeness with Jesus.
 
I think this could mean a whole series of things. Closeness comes in many forms. Sometimes when I feel “close” to Jesus, I feel a warmth in my heart. A fire, sort of. It’s a burning sensation that I can feel go through my chest, down my arms, through my toes… It brings tears to my eyes. I have only encountered that a handful of times, but even the memory of it brings me peace because I know Christ can and will touch us.
That must be wonderful, and when I see the word “memory of it” reminds me of His words at the table. “Do this in remembrance of Me”
Other times, a “close” feeling to Jesus simply is an intangible feeling of assurance for me.
And sometimes, when my daughter climbs into bed with me and snuggles into my arms, she’ll put her head onto my chest and her hand onto my cheek and I will feel so much love, such a deep and gratifying love… and I think to myself that this must be, in some way, what Christ feels for us when we fall into His arms in prayer. That also reminds me of a closeness with Jesus.
:heaven:

Thank you for the beautiful pictures. :tiphat:

Alan
 
Actually, there are a lot of books about this kind of thing.

First off, there’s nothing wrong with someone who never has “feelings” of Christ’s presence, warm feelings of supernatural joy, etc. If God doesn’t think you need it, you won’t get it. And that’s kind of a sign in your favor, if you think about it. “Blessed are those who have not seen, but still believe.”

There are many different ways to have a relationship with God, and some of them are entirely intellectual. Intellectual knowledge of God can be very fulfilling to a certain kind of person. (Dorothy L. Sayers, the Anglican and mystery writer who also wrote a lot of good spiritual books, was brave enough to admit to this. I say brave, because there are a lot of people who are freaked out by such a “cold, unemotional” way to experience God. But for those who have it, it’s perfectly good stuff.)

But yes, some people have a fairly constant sense of God’s presence like another person in the room, like St. Francis de Sales. Others have a sense of Him that comes and goes. Again, this is a supernatural gift; it doesn’t come unless it’s something God thinks you need. Other people occasionally get splashier feelings of joy, sightings of light, heavenly sounds or odors or tastes, etc. These things and those above are usually called “consolations”. There are other things like the “gift of tears” that show up too. In general, a consolation from God will make you feel a lot better afterward, and sort of strengthen you in days to come.

It’s also perfectly normal for God to give you normal feelings of joy, etc. that come at times appropriate for Him. This is a sort of teaching you to be responsive to Him.

The thing to know about “consolations” is that they come when God thinks you need it. Many people never need them, or need them only once. They are often compared to milk and honey, which is a good food to help kids grow or the sick get well. As people mature in their relationship with God, God will tend to give them consolations less, and may even give them “desolations” and other toughening treatments.

(Though there are exceptions; St. Francis de Sales only lost the feeling of God’s presence once in his entire life, apparently to teach him what life is like for the rest of us. But God worked St. Francis de Sales pretty hard, so obviously he needed the high-carb God diet.)

It’s just one of those things. If you’re interested, talk to a priest or knowledgeable spiritual director. St. John of the Cross can tell you tons about it, in The Ascent of Mount Carmel and its sequel The Dark Night of the Soul. But he’s going to tell you not to focus too much on “religious experiences” or worrying about other people’s gifts. That’s all distraction from the real point.

If you focus on knowing and loving God and your neighbor and obeying God’s commands, you’ll be on the right track. You will know God, and you won’t have to worry about what everybody else has or doesn’t have.
 
When I laugh, I feel close to Jesus.

I mean the laughter of fellowship and love and even general joviality, not of mockery and derision.
 
(Though there are exceptions; St. Francis de Sales only lost the feeling of God’s presence once in his entire life, apparently to teach him what life is like for the rest of us. But God worked St. Francis de Sales pretty hard, so obviously he needed the high-carb God diet.)
:rotfl:
 
There are many different ways to have a relationship with God, and some of them are entirely intellectual. Intellectual knowledge of God can be very fulfilling to a certain kind of person. (Dorothy L. Sayers, the Anglican and mystery writer who also wrote a lot of good spiritual books, was brave enough to admit to this. I say brave, because there are a lot of people who are freaked out by such a “cold, unemotional” way to experience God. But for those who have it, it’s perfectly good stuff.)
Yes, I’d say my own experience from the time I was about 25 and got interested in returning to Church, until my Dark Night started at age 42, was pretty much intellectual like that. It can be very satisfying. I may not have understood why people acted the way they did, since people are more feelings-motivated than information-motivated.
If you focus on knowing and loving God and your neighbor and obeying God’s commands, you’ll be on the right track. You will know God, and you won’t have to worry about what everybody else has or doesn’t have.
Agree!

Thank you for posting! :tiphat:

Alan
 
There’s…a time to embrace, and a time to be far from embraces. Ecclesiastes 3:5

I feel Jesus presence differently than I feel the Holy Spirit or the Father. It’s hard to explain but I’ll give it a try. I feel Jesus presence more like I would a spouse. The love between us manifests in me more romantically. Like in the morning, I sometimes wake up feeling snuggled. Everything in my body is still, calm, and I feel so safe. I feel the affection between the two of us. Sometimes I feel deeply disturbed with sorrow and I feel His sadness. It is similar with the Father but it’s more nurturing, encouraging, approving or stern, disapproving and disciplinary. With the Holy Spirit I feel in two extremely different ways. Sometimes He feels ominous like a thunder storm and other times He feels very light and delicate like the perfect sunny day with a gentle breeze. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference between the persons of the Trinity.

Sometimes, like when someone dies, a bright light illumines my heart and I am filled with radiating joy. This happened to me after my Aunt died and I went to a benefit for a food bank where there was dancing and music and everyone kept commenting how they felt like they were slipped an ecstasy drug. There were no drugs, just my aunt celebrating with me and my friends.

But then I also have had times where I feel or perceive nothing at all. Nothing, nothing, nothing as though you could drop a penny into my soul and hear it echo indefinitely.

You know how you can feel someone in a room even though you can’t see them or you can feel someone looking at you. I usually feel God in that way but there have been times when it was as though He were no longer in the room with me. This was/is always disturbing to me. It doesn’t matter how often it happens, I never get used to it. I make it very clear that I DON’T LIKE IT very much. I try not to complain but the longing is so consuming and grief and brokenness set it. I feel pathetic at my begging. In these times it sucks all the life and energy out of me and I fight hard not to be depressed.
 
When you say, “feel close to Jesus,” are you looking for consolations?

If this be the case, it’s merely the hunger for the love he touched you with at the beginning of your conversion, but now for reasons to help you grow, are no longer felt.

Try reading St. John of the Cross’ “Spiritual Canticle.”

St. John does a great job explaining what the soul grows through in the spiritual journey.

It sounds like it’s what you’re going through.

Jim
 
When you say, “feel close to Jesus,” are you looking for consolations?

If this be the case, it’s merely the hunger for the love he touched you with at the beginning of your conversion, but now for reasons to help you grow, are no longer felt.

Try reading St. John of the Cross’ “Spiritual Canticle.”

St. John does a great job explaining what the soul grows through in the spiritual journey.

It sounds like it’s what you’re going through.

Jim
I’m just opening the question to see what comes up. I have had different experiences I have thought of as contact with Jesus, but I think so abstractly that I feel pretty much in cahoots with Him at any given time – sometimes I feel consolations, sometimes I don’t. When I feel consolations, I’ve learned to really enjoy them by savoring the difference they bring to the way I feel in whatever my worldly situation, and that tells my subconscious which direction to take my reality if it thinks I need a dose of that. I’ve never tried to describe it.

But for other people, I hear them say they feel near Jesus or they feel particularly distant from Jesus. I just wanted a group sharing experience on what that means – just a chance to maybe recall some fond experiences. I’m not looking to solve any problems or anything. 🙂

Alan
 
It’s a hard thing to put into words. When I feel close to Jesus life is just – happier, better, deeper, calmer…

It is when you feel and know at a deep deep level that you are not alone, that Jesus is there with you. I’ve experienced it a lot, but not constantly by any means. I may wake up and just “know” that Jesus is with me that day, and feel Him beside me every single step I take. I may feel him holding me, carrying me, guiding me, teaching me, consoling me–all depending on the circumstances.

I might be praying and asking for help with something and suddenly the calm comes over me and I just “know” what to do. Or I feel a peace and calm and love and joy that comes from within that just makes me want to sit there and let it soak in. Sometimes I feel like it’s overflowing and has to have someplace to go (out to other people).

In times of grief or struggle, when I call to Him for help, I feel his presence helping me, calming me, filling me. It’s a sense of deep love and intimacy like you are not alone, you do not need to worry. All your cares are gone and they are in His capable hands. It is sort of a calm and a peace and assurance. Nothing else matters and you just want more and more of Jesus. For me, I guess I’d sum it up with a very deep knowledge that I AM NOT ALONE; He walks with me and loves me in every step I take.

Once you experience it, you long for it even more and it feels empty when the feeling is gone.

That’s when we have to just keep going, moving ahead, doing the things we always do in our spiritual lives, keep seeking Him while reminding ourselves that He is still there even when we don’t “feel” it at the moment.
 
These are all such beautiful posts! Thank you so much. I really can’t add anything at this time so please feel free if there are any more comments on this topic. 🙂

Alan
 
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