Some people puff themselves up so tall you can’t get near them. Ever try talking to someone who’s all ego? You feel small. You hesitate. You walk away. But what if the Almighty were like that? What if the Creator held you at arm’s length?

He doesn’t. He leans down. He says: “Pour out your hearts before him. God is a refuge for us” (Psalm 62:8, NWT). So why do we still sometimes freeze up, feeling too unworthy to speak?

Picture this: a little girl comes flying around the corner on her bike. Gravel skids, spokes twist, her knees are raw with scrapes. She limps home expecting anger, maybe even shame. Instead, her father drops to his knees in the driveway, brushes away the dirt, and says gently, “I’m just glad you’re safe.” Doesn’t that tell the story? Jehovah meets us the same way. He doesn’t pounce on failure. He sees the wounds first. He listens. He cares.

The Bible holds echoes of that tenderness. Hannah’s brokenhearted prayer. Joshua’s bold cry for the sun to halt in the sky (1 Samuel 1:10-18; Joshua 10:12-14). Jehovah preserved those moments so we’d know: I want your voice too.

But what about the times guilt presses down, making us whisper, I don’t deserve his ear? Jesus answered with a story. A son trudged home in shame. But before he reached the door, his father ran — not strolled, not delayed — ran. He hugged him tight, kissed him, welcomed him home (Luke 15:20, NWT). Isn’t that Jehovah? Doesn’t he sprint toward you the moment you turn your face toward him (Lamentations 3:19-20; Isaiah 57:15)?

And today — how does he run? Through an elder’s visit when the house feels empty. Through a believing spouse who whispers prayer into the night. Through a brother or sister whose text lands at the exact moment you felt forgotten (James 5:14-15). Coincidence? Or is that Jehovah’s mercy arriving on time?

So ask yourself: what if you spoke right now, halting words, tear-choked voice? Would he pull back? Or would he bend down, listen close, and run to hold you?

He would run. He is running.