A Ministry of Presence

Our four baby chicks huddled together in the box under the heat lamp. They were happy to find each other after the exhausting task of escaping from their eggshells. The students in my son's seventh grade science class were enthralled by this project. If one chick got separated from the others, it became frantic, peeping loudly until it found its siblings. The man at the feed mill, where I got the eggs, had told me one chick could never survive alone. It needs others for warmth, security and protection. This truth resonates throughout creation reminding me of God's words, "It is not good for man to be alone." We too derive strength, help and comfort from our connections. We need the presence of others.

A pastor from Africa, who interned at our church, made a disturbing observation. He said that people in America were so much more isolated, lonely and disconnected from each other than in Africa. " In Africa we have less materially but more relationally."

This need for connection, for belonging, must be seen as fundamental. We gain support, courage, identity, and purpose from the presence of others. This is why people join clubs, teams, sororities and gangs. God understands this need and He created us to need family and church. In Deuteronomy He said, "do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord is the one who goes before you. He will be with you. He will neither fail you nor forsake you."

This connection need is why people instinctively attend funerals of their friends' loved ones. They go in order just to "be there" for their friends, not to grieve themselves. The longest funeral I ever attended was for a retired pastor's wife. She died after a long debilitating illness. It was not a tragic, unexpected death, nor was she a public, well-known figure. Yet the church was packed and the service went long because so many people wanted to memorialize this woman. Grandchildren, children, friends, and pastors, all gave the same account. She was there for them. Their memories of her were warm and cherished because of the interest she showed in them as people. She wanted to know them. She wanted to understand their lives. She remembered their favorite foods and what they were doing. She had always been eager to hear their updates. Even when her illness was advanced and she could no longer speak she would write out questions asking others how they were. She had time for people. She was there for the events that were central to the church. She was there for her husband of over 50 years of marriage. Her grandchildren want to emulate that level of commitment. Accolades were not given now for her professional work and her formal church ministries, although they could have been. These were good things too, but not the primary memories on the mourners' hearts. They were grieving that she would no longer be there for them, giving them strength simply by her presence. She had spent her life-putting people before projects and things.

When you love something or someone you spent time and energy investing in it. Love is cheap if no time is invested. If you say "I love gardening" but never garden; or you say, "I love fishing" but never fish; you are just using idle misleading talk. If you say you love your kids, but are never there for them, do they really experience your love? If you say you love your church, your sheep, but are not interested in their lives; and if you are too busy to know them; is it really love?  I John: 18 says, Dear children, let us stop just saying we love each other; let us really show it by our actions.

As a church leader or ministry wife, whether you like it or not, you represent, mostly on a subconscious level, either "the church" or "God," to many of your parishioners. Therefore, your concern or presence is given an added weight of importance because of your role. Your willingness to take the time to talk with people, to listen to them, to look them in the eye, ministers to people. Just your presence at church or social events is an encouraging and stabilizing factor. I'd like to exhort you to see this as an intrinsically valuable ministry.

Anyone can do the "ministry of presence." It is not about having to be somebody you are not. Nor is it about a narcissistic sense of your own importance. Rather, it is about being yourself and proactively deciding to love people. It is not about people pleasing. It is about wanting to know people. It is not about losing yourself in other people. It is about choosing to come alongside someone. It is not about giving up your boundaries. It is about having such good boundaries that you can chose to be flexible and extend yourself to others even if you disagree with them. It is not about neglecting your family. It is about making sure those accounts are full, so that you can bracket in time for others. It is not about living up to other people's expectations, demands, or needs. Nor is it trying to make up for the hurts and deficits in love people have experienced. Rather it is about doing what you can, even if at times it can only be a welcoming smile, a connecting look and a sincere handshake.

Keep in mind the attention to the person needs to supersede the content of any interaction, whether it is small talk, heavy issues or critical comments. It is easy to fall into defensiveness or directive problem solving and ignore the relationship itself. This will leave the person feeling disconnected with a lingering sense of shame. Philippians 2:3 says, don't be selfish; don't live to make a good impression on others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourself. Don't think only about your own affairs, but be interested in others, too, and what they are doing.

This is true for our teenagers as well as the people in our care. Kids will rebel against our rules if we haven't done the hard work of building a loving connected relationship with them. Anger, depression, or some form of discontent is often the aftermath of perceived neglect.

My seventh grade son and I stopped at the hospital on our way home from school to see Ethel. She was a frail elderly widow who had slipped and broken her hip. We could only stay a few minutes and she easily filled the time with chatter prompted only by the question "how are you?" The only word I got in edgewise was a brief prayer for her at the end of our visit. I will never forget the tear in her eye when she first recognized us. She felt so honored that we would visit her. Nor will I forget the weeping sob we heard as we left the room after she had expressed her appreciation that we took time for her. I think my son learned more in that brief interchange than a month's worth of schooling.

Colossians 3:14 the most important piece of clothing you must wear is love.