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Core verses: Romans 12:1; Luke 15:31; Genesis 45:4, 10–11

This post is an invitation: not to a theology of abstraction, but to a lived nearness—the kind of nearness that reshapes my appetite, recalibrates language, and redirects the mechanics of prayer itself.

If prayer is a technology, its operating system is proximity.

Draw near, and the room in which answers form begins to change.

INTRODUCTION: WHAT I MEAN BY NEARNESS

When I speak of nearness, I am not proposing a sentimental closeness or nostalgia which equates to pseudo-spirituality. Nor am I proposing a technique that guarantees instant results. Rather, nearness is a condition. It is the spiritual and practical practice in which answers are fashioned. It is the landscape into which promises may fall and take root.

Romans 12:1 starts my argument:

“I appeal to you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies [bring them near] as a living sacrifice.”

The apostle’s language is visceral: offering our whole self. That offering is the posture of nearness. To present myself is to exit the periphery and stand at the table.

Luke 15:31, the elder son’s reply to the father who celebrates the prodigal, offers a different facet of nearness: it exposes the spiritual poverty of distance. The father says,

“You are always with me and all that is mine is thine.” —Luke 15:31

Yet the elder remained distant in attitude. Nearest proximity and the possession of inheritance are not identical; the one requires the heart’s assent—that simply means, to inherit, you have to come near and claim your inheritance.

Genesis 45 (Joseph to his brothers) furnishes an image of relocation and welcome:

“Then Joseph said to his brothers, please come near me. And they did so…” —Genesis 45:4

“You shall settle in the land of Goshen and be near me—you and your children and grandchildren, your flocks and herds, and everything you own. And there I will provide for you…” —Genesis 45:10-11

Joseph’s request is not merely tactical; it is a call for the family to enter the sphere (Goshen) where provision is not only available but embodied. Goshen becomes the theological symbol for nearness. This is spiritual geography where we act on the words of our Lord and Saviour, not simply admire them.

NEARNESS IS A SPIRITUAL-PRACTICAL POSTURE

Nearness demands sacrifice—the offering of myself in simple, consecrated service. When Paul urges me to present my body as a living sacrifice, he is indicating a spiritual reorientation. Prayer divorced from practical offering is like a lamp without oil: the glare is there but the light remains cold.

To be near is to be honest about my limitations and spiritual bankruptcy, and to place my life on a table that is already purified by grace. It is humility: I will not hide; I will not use eloquent words to mask my fractures. This disposition matters because it alters the receiver’s heart. As Paul acknowledges,

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” —Genesis 45:4

Answers do not come to those who parade polished power. They come to those who stand near in simple readiness. As Jesus states,

“When Jesus heard this, he told them, Healthy people don’t need a doctor, sick people do.” —Mark 2:17

Unless I admit I need help, Jesus cannot help me. I demonstrate my need by drawing near to Him in abiding prayer.

NEARNESS IS A LITURGICAL ACT

There is a choreography to drawing near. Scripture gives us repeated motions: coming to the tent, entering the temple, and approaching the throne. Each is liturgical. Liturgy trains the body and soul to expect God; it disciplines appetite. ‘Liturgy’ means service in practice, not merely talking about it.

When I approach prayer as liturgy, the impatient timelines and transactional demands begin to fade. I re-learn how long it takes to kneel, how long to sit in silence, and how long to listen for the cadence of God’s reply. These are not wasted minutes—they are the rhythm of encounter.

“From ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides You, who acts on behalf of those who wait for Him.” —Isaiah 64:4

NEARNESS AND THE HEBREW ROOT נָגַשׁ (NAGASH)

Hebrew roots are muscular; they carry motion inside them. The verb נָגַשׁ (nagash) means “to draw near, to approach” and it is an anagram for Goshen. Nagash is intentional movement. Nearness is never passive; it is migration toward Presence.

Goshen (גֹּשֶׁן) and nagash are etymologically resonant. They echo across the tongue: nearness as movement, Goshen as the place of provision. Joseph’s invitation is not merely logistical—it is theological. To his family he state:

Come near. Enter the geography where favour can reach you.

Thus emerges a rule: God’s answers often manifest in the places toward which He invites me. If I cling to old geographies—emotional, spiritual, relational—I may remain in famine. But if I migrate inwardly and outwardly toward Him, I find that provision has been waiting for me all along.

This is the core meaning of repentance—changing where you look for salvation.

NEARNESS IS A TRANSFORMATION OF IDENTITY

Luke 15 gives us two sons. The younger, in his brokenness, draws near. The elder, in his virtue, remains far. Physical proximity to the house does not automatically create spiritual nearness.

Salvation is not based on being good or even perfect; it is based on drawing near and partaking.

Answered prayer is less about access and more about identity: Am I a servant that must earn my keep, or am I an heir that already has access to all that belongs to Father’s house?

→ Am I a child who receives?
→ Or a servant who fears scarcity?
→ Do I believe in generosity or in limited resources?

My inner narrative determines my outer experience. Repentance is not merely confession it is the rewriting of narrative, the acceptance of sonship, the willingness to believe: Everything He has is already mine.

The only question I must answer: am I persuaded that I am an heir or a servant?

NEARNESS AND THE ECONOMY OF GRACE

Genesis 45:10–11 records Joseph’s words: “Come down unto me, tarry not. There will I nourish thee.” The language is urgent because nearness changes economy. In Goshen, the family doesn’t merely survive—they thrive. The alternative is surviving the raging famine that is decimating the world.

Grace always operates inside economies of relationship. To remain distant is to remain hungry. To enter nearness is to step into the economy where God’s supply chain is no longer a rumour but a lifestyle.

THE PRACTICALITIES OF DRAWING NEAR

Here is what nearness has begun to look like in my life:

1. Consistent presence—returning daily to a place of listening.
2. Honest speech—bringing unvarnished truth instead of polished prayer jargon.
3. Obedient action—allowing conviction to alter my steps.
4. Communal approach—drawing near with others, not only privately.
5. Sacrificial listening—listening before speaking; yielding before demanding, knowing that God has my best interest at heart.

“Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us.” —Ephesians 3:20

This resonates with Isaiah 64:4 almost verbatim.

Drawing near and trusting in God’s faithfulness, reliability and goodness is not a formula but a learnt habit—the climate in which answers can manifest.

CASE STUDIES—SCRIPTURE AS A WORKSHOP OF NEARNESS

→ Abraham pitches his tent and looks toward a city he cannot yet see.
→ Moses draws near to the burning bush and discovers holy ground.
→ The prodigal rehearses a speech but is interrupted by a father who runs.
→ Joseph invites his father to Goshen—to nearness, to nourishment.

Each story shares the same grammar: nearness → identity → reception.

A SHORT HEBRAIC WORKSHEET—NAGASH, GOSHEN, AND PROVISION

• נָגַשׁ (nagash)—“to approach, draw near, come into close proximity.”
• גֹּשֶׁן (Goshen)—the place of “drawing near,” “approach,” or “place of closeness” where Jesus provides.
• Theological insight: God’s provision is often gated behind movement—into a new inner landscape, a new obedience, a new identity. Obedience isn’t merely saying Jesus is Lord, it is doing what He said to do, “come close to me, there I will provide for you.”

We got it wrong: my obedience isn’t for God’s benefit; it is for mine.

In short we are called to live from nearness not need.

DEVOTIONAL PRAYER

Father, draw my heart into the nearness You desire.
Strip away the distance I have normalised.
Teach my feet to move toward You.
Teach my heart to believe that everything You have is already mine.
Bring me into my Goshen — into the landscape of answered prayer,
where identity is restored,
where fear loosens its grip,
and where I live from nearness, not from need.
Amen.

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

1. Where in my life have I normalised distance from God?
2. What does “Goshen” look like in my present season?
3. What inner narrative must change for me to live as an heir, not a servant?
4. How might God be asking me to move—relationally, spiritually, emotionally?
5. What practical steps of nearness (nagash) can I begin today?

MEMORY VERSE

“For thus said the Lord GOD, the Holy One of Israel, “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” But you were unwilling…” —Isaiah 64:15