From Religion to Relationship: The Journey of Truly Knowing God

There was a time in my life when I thought I had a solid relationship with God. I went to church every week. I read the scriptures. I said my prayers. I served in callings, volunteered, and tried to be “good.” I knew all the right answers. I could quote verses and give talks and show up with a smile on my face.

But if I’m being really honest? I knew about God. I didn’t really know Him.

There’s a big difference, and I didn’t realize how wide the gap was until my life cracked open a bit. You know the moments—when the plans fall apart, when someone you love disappoints you deeply, when your heart feels tired from pretending everything’s fine. It was during one of those raw, vulnerable seasons that I came face-to-face with a deeper need: I didn’t want a checklist. I needed connection.

That’s when I started showing up differently. Not polished. Not perfect. But honest. I started praying from my heart, not just from habit. I let my tears hit the pages of my journal as I asked God questions I didn’t have answers for. And slowly, gently, I felt something shift.

I was no longer just talking about Him. I was talking to Him. Listening for Him. Trusting Him with things I had only shared with close friends—things I hadn’t even admitted to myself.

The scriptures say, “This is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent” (John 17:3). And that word—know—keeps grabbing my heart.

Not know of. Not know about.

But know.

We come to know God not through performing, but through proximity. Through small and sacred moments—whispered prayers, sincere repentance, keeping covenants not out of obligation but because our love for Him grows real. We know Him in the quiet, in the ordinary, in the tears cried in the car and the laundry folded with a heavy heart.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

Knowing about God gave me religion.

Knowing God gave me relationship.

And that changed everything.

He doesn’t want us to just be students in His classroom. He wants us to be companions on the journey. He wants us to walk with Him—through the confusion, the joy, the daily tasks, and the holy wrestles.

So if you’re in a place where you feel like you’ve been doing all the right things but still feel distant—start small. Get honest. Get quiet. Invite Him in. Not the Sunday version of you, but the real, messy, Monday morning you.

Because He’s already there.

Waiting.

Not to lecture.

But to love.