God Is Gravity

This week I’m sharing a poem that came to me in a quiet moment, rooted in a simple image that has stayed with me: What if God is like gravity—steady, unseen, always near, gently holding us even when life feels heavy?

If you’ve ever felt distant from God, unsure of yourself, or exhausted from trying to carry life on your own, this poem may speak into that tender inner space where you long to be held and reminded you are not alone.

God Is Gravity

This morning,
before the world found its voice,
before the day began
tugging at my sleeve,

I sat in the quiet,

and from somewhere deeper
than thought,
a simple image rose:

God is gravity.

Not a candle
I have to keep lit.

Not a rope
I have to grip
with tired hands.

Not a bird
that flies away
when my attention wanders.

God is more like the earth
beneath my bare feet—

steady,
silent,
unseen,

holding me
before I remember
I am being held.

For much of my life,
I thought I had to find God.

I thought prayer
was a ladder I had to climb,
a bridge I had to build,
the holy work I had to get right
so I could reach the Divine.

I thought faith depended
on my ability
to stay focused,
feel connected,
keep the sacred flame alive.

When God felt near,
I breathed peace.

When God felt far away,
I panicked

as if God had slipped
through some crack in the floor,

as if grace were water
I had failed to cup
in my hands.

So, I clung.

I climbed into my head
and began building ladders—

thought by thought,
word by word,
prayer by prayer—

trying to reach the One
who had never left.

Or I ran.

I ran into noise,
into busyness,
into the old haunts
of grumbling
and mindless fear.

Cling or run.

Back and forth

like a child
chasing shadows
cast along a sidewalk.

But this morning,
something deeper found me.

A truth rose
like a spring
breaking open
from underground:

What if God is like gravity?

The earth doesn’t ask me
to find it.

The ground doesn’t demand
I believe in it
before it holds my weight.

Gravity simply receives me.
It steadies me.

Gravity grounds me
with every step,
every stumble,
every tired return
to the Presence
that never left.

It gives the sparrow
something to rise against,
a steady pull
beneath the lift
of its wings.

It holds the river
to its bending path.

It holds the apple
as it ripens,
falls,
and returns to seed.

So it is with God.

God
is the pulse
within my heart,

the music
singing within my soul,

the quiet hand
drawing me close
to the breast of Love,

the holy weight
that draws me
back to what is real.

Even when I forget,

I am held.

Even when my mind
scatters like leaves
blown across windy streets,

I am held.

Even when fear
pounds its drum beat
inside my chest,

I am held.

Even when I wander
with a restless heart,

God remains—

closer than breath,
deeper than thought,
steadier than the ground
beneath my feet.

Maybe the invitation
is not to cling tighter.

Not to run faster.

Not to seek harder.

But to soften.

To pause
in the morning
and again
during the day.

To wiggle my toes
upon the earth.

To breathe the air
that fills my lungs

and know
it is God’s own Spirit
flowing within me.

To let my shoulders
fall like pebbles
into the quiet lake
of my body.

May I remember:

I am held.

God is here.

Always.

I don’t have to build a bridge
to the One
who already lives within me.

I don’t have to seek
what grace has already given.

I don’t have to fear losing
what cannot be lost.

I need only awaken.

Again…

Again…

Again…

while washing a cup,
answering email,
walking along city streets,

or standing in the noise
of my unfinished life—

I need only whisper
to the One
always holding me:

I’m here.

You are here.

You will never let me go.

And slowly,
my soul remembers
what my body already knows:

Gravity is trustworthy
even when I forget
it’s there.

Love remains
even when I forget
to notice it.

Grace holds me
even when I lose my way.

God is gravity.

Constant.

Tender.

Strong.

I may not always feel
the Divine Presence.

I may forget
it is here within me.

But God never stops
holding me.

God is the ground
of my very being.

And before we seek,
before we strive,
before we even know
how to pray,

we are already held

by the One
who formed gravity,

the One who created us,

the One who breathes within us
the Presence
of Eternal Love.

—brian plachta

Where this Poem Rose From

One of my deepest fears has often been that somehow God is not real—or if God is real, that God might one day abandon me.

I think of the scene in The Chosen where Peter walks on water. For a moment, he trusts. He steps toward Jesus. But then he looks down, sees the waves, and becomes afraid. Later, as the storm swamps the boat, Jesus comes to him. Peter looks into the eyes of Jesus and cries, “Please, never leave me.”

I know that cry.

On my recent retreat, I sat alone in the silence at three o’clock in the morning, waiting to go to morning vigils. The monastery was quiet. The world was still asleep. And deep inside my chest, I felt like Peter.

God, never let me go.

Never let me go.

That’s when the image rose within me:

God is like gravity.

I may not always know God is there. I may not always feel the Divine Presence. I may forget. I may become afraid. I may look down at the waves of life and wonder if I’m sinking.

Still, God remains.

God is as steady as the breath moving in and out of my lungs. As near as the pulse beating gently within my heart. As constant as the gravity that holds my body safely to the earth, keeping me grounded, keeping me from becoming weightless and lost.

In that quiet time before dawn, I sensed Jesus deep within my chest, in the sanctuary of my own heart. And I knew—not with my head, but with my body, my breath, my soul—that God is always here.

Like gravity.

Holding me.

Grounding me.

Drawing me back to Love.

So now, when fear rises and whispers, “What if God is not real?” or “What if God leaves me?”  I return to the ground beneath my feet. I feel my toes upon the earth. I place a hand over my heart. I listen for the quiet pulse of Divine Presence within me.

And I remember:

God is here.

God will never abandon me.

Never.

I am safe.

We are safe.

We are held by the One who formed gravity, breathed life into us, and placed within our hearts the eternal pull of Love.

Ponder:

Where in your life do you most need to feel your feet on the ground? Place your hand over your heart and remember: I am safe. I am held. God will never let me go.

Your friend in the flow,

brian

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If you’ve been longing for a deeper, more peaceful way of experiencing God in everyday life, I’m hosting a free workshop called What’s the Contemplative Tradition… and What’s in It for Me?

In this workshop, we’ll explore what the contemplative path actually is, why so many of us were never taught it, and simple, practical ways to begin integrating it into your daily life.

It’s a simple, grounded introduction to a more life-giving way of walking with God.

Workshop Details

Date: Tuesday, May 5, 2026

Time: 7:00–8:30 p.m. Eastern

Location: Online via Zoom

Cost: Free

Register here: https://www.findingflowlife.com/whats-the-contemplative-tradition-workshop

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If you’re seeking a gentler start to your mornings—one you can carry with you into your day to find more inner peace—I invite you to join DivineFlow Daily, a free short reflection and quote sent to your inbox each day. In under a minute, it’s meant to help you slow down, breathe, and remember what truly gives life before the noise sets in.

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