Since His delights are to be with you, let yours be found in Him.

“Since His delights are to be with you, let yours be found in Him.” Thus spoke Saint Alphonsus Liguori, a man whose soul was steeped in the fire of divine love, whose words were not born of theory but of devotion tested through suffering. In this saying lies a truth both tender and thunderous—a reminder that the God who created the stars does not delight in thrones or temples of stone, but in you, the living soul fashioned in His image. The Infinite bends low toward the finite, yearning not for power, but for communion. Since His joy is to dwell with humankind, should not ours be to dwell with Him?

To understand this, we must look not with the eyes of logic but with the eyes of love. For what is love if not the meeting of two wills, freely joined? God delights in humanity, not because He lacks completeness, but because love by its nature overflows. The Creator, in His infinite perfection, seeks not servants but companions—children who will love Him freely. Saint Alphonsus, in his meditations, saw that divine love is not a cold command but an invitation to intimacy. It is the call of a Father who whispers to the heart: “Since I find joy in you, come find yours in Me.”

Consider the life of Saint Francis of Assisi, who once walked as a wealthy youth, surrounded by finery and feasts. Yet none of these things could quiet the restlessness in his heart. When he turned away from worldly glory to embrace poverty, mockery, and even sickness, the world thought him mad. But in that surrender, he found what kings could not buy—the delight of God’s presence. He sang to the sun and the birds not out of madness, but because his soul was aflame with divine joy. Francis understood what Alphonsus later echoed: when we delight in God, we enter a freedom and happiness that the world cannot give nor take away.

There is a mystery in this union: when man delights in God, he is not diminished but exalted. The world teaches that joy comes from possession, but heaven teaches that it comes from surrender. Those who chase pleasure find only weariness; those who give themselves to divine love find renewal. Alphonsus himself, though burdened by illness and persecution, wrote hymns in the night, rejoicing even in pain, for he knew that every sorrow offered to God became a song of love. His joy was not in comfort but in communion.

And so, the quote speaks not merely of piety, but of reciprocal love—a love that mirrors heaven itself. “Since His delights are to be with you,” means that God Himself bends His heart toward yours, waiting not for perfection but for presence. When you rise, He watches; when you weep, He listens. When you fall, He longs not to condemn but to lift. Shall we then ignore the One who finds joy in our company? Shall we seek delight in fleeting things when the Eternal has already chosen us as His delight?

The lesson, then, is simple yet profound: do not let your joy depend on the fragile gifts of the world. Let it rest in the unchanging presence of God. Each morning, before the noise of the world begins, turn your heart toward Him in gratitude. Each evening, before your eyes close, speak to Him as to a friend. Offer your work, your laughter, even your tears as tokens of love. The one who delights in God will never be without peace, even in storms.

And remember this truth: when your heart finds its delight in God, life becomes luminous. The burdens you carry grow light, the wounds you bear begin to heal. For the soul that delights in Him no longer walks alone—it walks with the One who delights in it first. Such is the divine circle of love: He delights in you, and you in Him, until heaven begins to bloom within the heart.

Therefore, O seeker of truth, live not as one forgotten, but as one beloved. Walk through the world as a child of the Eternal, whose joy is to be with you. Let your words, your work, and your worship flow from that knowledge. For in the end, the greatest wisdom of all is not that we can love God, but that He first delighted in us—and in returning that delight, we become whole.