This week, I’ve been writing about God’s Presence. This topic is meaningful for me, and it’s a reminder that’s always good for my heart.
I’m a presence person. Being present matters to me. When I was in high school, I never wanted to miss a sibling’s game or recital. I always wanted to be there, to support them and tell them how proud I was.
My homework workload often made that challenging. There were basketball games in which I would spend the timeouts and breaks outlining an essay or reading a book for one of my classes. I wanted to be at the event – but it was hard to be fully there with my giant stack of assignments that never seemed to shrink.
I learned a valuable lesson when I was 16 or 17 at one of my sister’s birthday parties. My parents held the party at a venue that featured laser tag, arcade games, bumper cars, and batting cages. My sister, who is a full-hearted adventurer, had several friends come to the party in addition to our family.
After engaging in some games, our group had a free-for-all time, so instead of gaming in the arcade or hitting the cages, I pulled out my Latin homework (spoiler alert: not a good idea).
My Mom came into the party room with all our belongings, saw me doing homework, and was ... displeased. It didn’t go well for me. “You brought your HOMEWORK to your sister’s BIRTHDAY PARTY?!?!?” My Mother would have none of it. She told me to put my homework away and to go be a part of the party. I obeyed (my emotions a mixture of disgruntlement and guilt) and spent the rest of the time with everybody else.
The reason I share this perhaps amusing (and absolutely embarrassing) story is that I stumbled on an important truth that day: true presence is about more than occupying a seat or sharing the air. It’s about being fully there, with your mind, your thoughts, your emotions, and your heart.
Your body can be anywhere, but where is your heart? If your heart’s not in it, then your presence is incomplete at best.
Since then, I’ve endeavored to be fully present with people. I don’t always hit the mark, but invested presence is a value for me, and I do my best to give others my total attention when we’re together.
At family game nights, I don’t gaze at my phone. When I’m at church, I don’t think about all the work I have to do the next day (that’s not to say thoughts don’t come to mind, but that I choose not to engage in them). If I find myself at a party with a bunch of unknown faces, I resist the urge to pull out a book and read (oh, the struggle sometimes ... and yes, I almost always have a book in my purse).
I long to be present with every part of me, for I realize that my presence is a gift. My presence is valuable. My presence is important.
The first time I remember treasuring the mere presence of someone (with nothing else needed) was in Jamaica during my first mission trip with CFNI. At the end of a full day, our team was riding back to our hotel on the bus, and one of my leaders spontaneously decided to sit in the back.
He ended up next to me, and we spent the majority of the travel time simply enjoying each other’s presence. Not talking. Not planning. Not even really looking at each other. Just being where we were, conscious of each other, but feeling no pressure to give anything other than ourselves.
I left that ride feeling refreshed, and I appreciated that my leader didn’t deem it necessary to occupy the space with words or actions. I later learned from him that he too enjoyed just being present, and having me present, without anything else demanded of either of us.
Now, before you chalk it up to my introverted nature, hear this: that leader is most definitely an extrovert. So this isn’t about my wanting peace and quiet (though sometimes I do reach that point).
There is a deep jewel embedded in the full-bodied presence of someone. It takes peaceful ease and strong security to just be.
Please understand – I enjoy conversing with others, laughing together, and looking people in the eyes. I’m not advocating for some kind of convent where all we do is sit and stare at blank walls. (That would actually drive me mad.)
But when I can sit in a room with someone else, and neither of us feels the need to speak, and there is an easy awareness of each other – then I relish in the moment of such presence.
Presence, without pressure. Presence, without a certain response demanded or required. Presence, full of freedom and peace.
This kind of presence touches my heart and sets my soul free. It’s like drinking cool water from a fresh spring on a broiling day.
And I think the reason this matters so much to me is that it reminds me of my Father. The truest Presence is His. He is always with me. Sometimes He speaks; other times, He doesn’t. Sometimes I sense His closeness; sometimes I don’t. But whenever I take a moment to breathe and look for Him, I find Him.
I find Him in the gentle peace that rushes into my heart. The quiet voice that whispers the truth. The spark of hope that spurs me on. I find Him in the birds’ songs, the leaves whooshing in the wind, the delicately painted blues of the sky. I find Him in my heartbeat, in the movement of my lungs, in the sound of my footsteps. He is there. He’s with me.
And sometimes, words aren’t necessary. Sometimes, the easy appreciation of our presence is enough.
There’s a comfort that comes from undistracted presence. There is a beauty to undivided attention. I know that whatever my life looks like, I will find such comfort, such beauty, and such loving Presence in my Jesus.
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