Mere Presence

Have you ever had an introvert friend? You know the one: that friend whose mere presence is enough sometimes? That person you can spend all day in the same room with, not say a gosh-diddly-darn thing and still feel like you had a great time with. I’ve got one of those. Well, I’ve got a few. But the one that comes to mind right now is my roommate. He’s a dork, but hearing laughter from the other room still makes my life just a little bit better. You see, I used to live alone. When I first moved here, I didn’t know anyone that needed a roommate, so I got a studio. 

Alone

By myself.

It was fun at first. I could come home whenever I wanted and flip on the lights to absolutely zero complaints. I didn’t have anyone snoring to keep me up and if the kitchen was a mess, I had only myself to blame. But after a while, it got pretty lonely. I no longer cared about the lights, and the lack of noise just made my ears ring. It became clear that I needed some people in my life. 

So I got a cat.

With Bjorn in the house, coming home felt a little more heartwarming. Sure, he was always there to meet me at the door, yapping for hours about his day, the weather, and everything in between. But, eventually, he would curl up in a ball in the corner and go to sleep. Even in those moments, I was far more grateful, far happier to be home, than if he hadn’t been there at all. Even just as a napper, his presence had a subtle impact on me. A sort of warming effect, if you will. It made a difference and I don’t know what I would have done without him. 

Then we moved out of that apartment and introduced my roommate into the picture. Now I get excited when his car is in the lot. Sometimes, we’ll have long conversations, other times we’ll both split off early. But no matter what happens, life feels better knowing there’s another person under my roof. Even beyond the little conveniences, like not having to look for a cat sitter when I’m away, or having someone else to do the dishes, is a comfort that comes from having someone around. 

It’s almost as if presence has a power of its own. It’s a mysterious thing to me. What actions are we taking to have this effect on others? Humans have the ability to understand each other beyond what they are doing and have done. We understand what people will do. There’s a far deeper person to be understood, to be known, than just their actions. There’s something about just existing that is worth something. 

This feels weird for me to say, because I’m typically that guy that leans on his actions. I’m all about discipline, rules, regiments, routines–that sort of thing. I’m not one to step outside the realm of the tangibles. But I can’t deny this case–this embodiment of the conclusion that there’s so much more out there. Maybe that’s my problem: I can’t embrace the mystery. Can’t face the unknowns. Oh well. That’s just who I am, I guess.

My point is that most of us understand this experience. The joy of having someone around to just exist with. Lately, I have been wondering if that’s who God has been for me in this busy season: the Wonderful Co-Exister. I have been feeling like I haven’t been moving much, in the spiritual sense. In fact, I’ve actually been feeling like I’ve been moving backwards. I wouldn’t go as far as saying that God hasn’t been there, but it definitely feels like a lot of the growth I’m used to has been on hold. I’m not seeing God’s Hand move in the same ways I’m used to. He doesn’t continue to work in the ways I’ve come to know. And yet, He’s here all the same. Kind of like the friend that needs no conversation. You may not notice Him. You may not interact with Him, but life feels better because He’s there. Of that, you are completely certain.

I’ve noticed that this busy season. The other day, I noted that this busy season has been one of my best ones yet. I’m not exhausted, I’m not falling asleep on the road. I’m keeping up with the fast pace set before me. I used to attribute it to my experience with busy seasons or my restful Sundays, but now I’m wondering if there’s something way deeper going on. Maybe this is God’s subtle presence in my life. Maybe it’s His loving whisper to me, saying,

I’m still here.

Sure, there’s still a toll being taken on me. I’m still a little roughed up around the edges. But I’ve got an energy level that I would dare say is unnatural. And while I still yearn for calmer waters, the high seas don’t destroy me like they once did. I can confidently say that I’m doing well, with a smile on my face that doesn’t feel fake. I think that’s God’s presence in my life. I think that’s Him showing up, still being there, even when I can’t be present with Him in the same way I used to be. 

But talking like that makes it sound like He’s up to something else. He’s in His room gaming while I’m out here struggling. I wouldn’t say that’s right at all. It’s like He’s grandma, busy in the kitchen baking all kinds of delicious cookies for His favorite grandkid. He’s waiting for the timing to be right for His big expression of love for us. But while cookie dough is safe, dare I even say better at times, real-life plans can be less so. Perhaps the pieces need to be moved into the right place for things to work out just right. Maybe it’s even the case that what might seem like the right thing at the wrong time is still the wrong thing?

I see this as encouragement. Like I’m not as far off track as I might have thought. I tend to get so focused on the tangibles–the next steps, the “tell me what to do’s,” that I forget about the deeper mysteries of life. I’m still clinging to my tendencies because I feel someone has to get their boots on the ground, but I see this as a reminder of all that I’m blind to. I’m beckoned into the idea that I just might have more value than I’m able to see at the moment. I’d like to think that this is a reminder that you and I are making more of an impact on the world than we realize. And, more importantly, that God is still up to something in our lives. I still want to be useful, still want to do good. I can’t get a good feel for what my own presence is like. All I can do is hope that God’s work in my life, His own mere presence, is in me and reflecting out onto others. But even if it isn’t, I know that He’s still right here and that He’s still working on something incredible for my next chapter. Of that, I have no doubt.

Until Next Time

May Peace be your Guide.