A good friend of mine prayed a wonderful prayer for me the other day over the phone. Most weekdays we pray for our work that day and for our relationships. We especially pray for our relationships with our wives. So here is what my friend prayed for me the other day, in relation to my wife. “LORD, please help him not just to be around. Help him to be there for his sweetheart.”
Being around, vs. being there: what a wonderful distinction! And what a difficult one to live out! Why do I find this so difficult?
For example, I am frequently around my wife. I am usually at home. Now that she is retired (sort of), my wife is also usually around. However, that does not mean that I am always there for her. Absence comes in many forms. Not listening deeply, not respecting her thoughts, feelings, needs, and desires, not thinking the best of her—all these are ways of not being there for her.
Being around is easy. Being there for somewhat is exceedingly difficult.
Rod Argent, keyboardist and frequent lyricist for the group The Zombies, wrote a song that had the hook, “But she’s not there.” He wrote the lyrics right after his fiancé called off the wedding a week before it was supposed to have taken place.
But sometimes, even married people are not really there. At least, sometimes this married person is not really there for his sweetheart.
Being there is a crucial aspect of love and commitment. According to the Bible God is the One who is always there for us. Ezekiel ended his prophecies to a people who were exiled to a foreign land by speaking of the restoration of Jerusalem. Jerusalem is even given a new name. “And the name of the city from that time on shall be, ‘The LORD Is There.’”
Even better is Psalm 139:5-12.
“5 You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is high; I cannot attain it.
Psa. 139:7 Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
9 If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10 even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,”
12 even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.”
According to this psalmist, God is there, not matter where “there” is for us. Classical Christian theologians have called this attribute God’s “omnipresence.”
But, even if we believe that God is everywhere, questions still remain. Is God’s every-where-ness good news? Too often we think of God merely being present in order to judge or condemn us. Is God there for us¸ or is God simply around?
Psalm 118:6a says, “The LORD is on my side; I will not fear.” And Paul, after talking a lot about the mercy, grace, and forgiveness that God has shown us sinners through Jesus Christ (Romans 8:31-32), says, “What shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?” Who indeed!?!
However, as wonderful as it is to hear these things about God, the question remains: Am I there for those I love? If I really believe that God is there for me, then I am called upon as his creature, made in his image, to reflect that to others. I need to determine at the beginning of each day to be there for people. During the day I need to ask frequently if I am being there for people. And at the end of my day and at the end of life I need to ask the same question. Who knows? That may be one of the questions God will ask all of us when we stand before him. Of course, God will already know that answer. So will we in that moment.
1 For the choir director: A psalm of David. O LORD, you have examined my heart and know everything about me.
2 You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.
3 You see me when I travel and when I rest at home. You know everything I do.
4 You know what I am going to say even before I say it, LORD.
5 You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand!
7 I can never escape from your Spirit! I can never get away from your presence!
8 If I go up to heaven, you are there; if I go down to the grave, you are there.
9 If I ride the wings of the morning, if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
10 even there your hand will guide me, and your strength will support me.
11 I could ask the darkness to hide me and the light around me to become night–
12 but even in darkness I cannot hide from you. To you the night shines as bright as day. Darkness and light are the same to you.” (Psalm 139:1-12, New Living Translation)
Friday, January 5, 2018
This morning, my devotions took an exceedingly quirky turn. I am going on a personal weekend retreat with my good friend, Jerome, at Gethsemani. I read the following in my 3-minute retreat from the Jesuits:
“Before you begin, spend several moments in silence. Take a few slow, deep breaths. Allow God’s presence to reveal itself in you.”
These are similar to most of these 3-minute retreats. However, for some reason, the words “Allow God’s presence to reveal itself in you” riveted me. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the Reality—the Reality that God was completely, redemptively present everywhere and everywhen in the universe. He filled my little room, my little self, the most distant galaxies, everything. I was filled with, possessed by, wonder and joy.
And then, I read the following meditation from Richard Rohr (who is a Franciscan and not at Jesuit, by the way):
“Week One
Introduction: Image and Likeness
Where Is God?
Friday, January 5, 2018
When I was on retreat at Thomas Merton’s hermitage at Gethsemani Abbey in 1985, I had a chance encounter that has stayed with me all these years. I was walking down a little trail when I recognized a recluse, what you might call a hermit’s hermit, coming toward me. Not wanting to intrude on his deep silence, I bowed my head and moved to the side of the path, intending to walk past him. But as we neared each other, he said, “Richard!” That surprised me. He was supposed to be silent. How did he know who I was? “Richard, you get chances to preach and I don’t. Tell the people one thing.” Pointing to the sky, he said, “God is not ‘out there’!” Then he said, “God bless you,” and abruptly continued down the path.
The belief that God is “out there” is the basic dualism that is tearing us all apart. Our view of God as separate and distant has harmed our relationships with sexuality, food, possessions, money, animals, nature, politics, and our own incarnate selves. This loss explains why we live such distraught and divided lives. Jesus came to put it all together for us and in us. He was saying, in effect, “To be human is good! The material and the physical can be trusted and enjoyed. This physical world is the hiding place of God and the revelation place of God!”
Far too much of religion has been about defining where God is and where God isn’t, picking and choosing who and what has God’s image and who and what doesn’t. In reality, it’s not up to us. We have no choice in the matter. All are beloved. Everyone—Catholic and Protestant, Christian and Muslim, black and white, gay and straight, able-bodied and disabled, male and female, Republican and Democrat—all are children of God. We are all members of the Body of Christ, made in God’s image, indwelled by the Holy Spirit, whether or not we are aware of this gift.
Can you see the image of Christ in the least of your brothers and sisters? This is Jesus’ only description of the final judgment (Matthew 25). But some say, “They smell. They’re a nuisance. They’re on welfare. They are a drain on our tax money.” Can we see Christ in all people, even the so-called “nobodies” who can’t or won’t play our game of success? When we can see the image of God where we don’t want to see the image of God, then we see with eyes not our own.
Jesus says we have to love and recognize the divine image even in our enemies. Either we see the divine image in all created things, or we don’t see it at all .Once we see God’s image in one place, the circle keeps widening. It doesn’t stop with human beings and enemies and the least of our brothers and sisters. It moves to frogs and pansies and weeds. Everything becomes enchanting with true sight. We cannot not live in the presence of God. We are totally surrounded and infused by God. All we can do is allow, trust, and finally rest in it, which is indeed why we are “saved” by faith—faith that this could be true.
Gateway to Presence:
If you want to go deeper with today’s meditation, take note of what word or phrase stands out to you. Come back to that word or phrase throughout the day, being present to its impact and invitation.”
These “coincidences” during my devotions strike me as hardly being coincidental. In any case, they invite me to think of God (and everyone and everything else in the universe) differently.
I am not so good at recognizing God everywhere, everywhen, and in everyone. However, I’m working on it!
“No atomic particle is so small that God is not fully present to it, and no galaxy so vast that God does not circumscribe it. No space is without the divine presence. God is in touch with every part of creation. God cannot be excluded from any location or object in creation . . .” (Thomas C. Oden, The Living God, p. 67, italics mine).
All of us addicts know that craving for a fix is not simply a mental or spiritual problem. It is certainly that, but it is more: Addictions enslave us, even at the molecular level. Every cell in our body cries out for the substance or activity to which we are addicted. This is true, no matter what our addiction.
Researchers are beginning to see this more clearly as well. Addicts have always known it—at least, those of us who have experienced some measure of sanity. Until I had acknowledged my addiction and had some success in recovering from it, I had no clue how powerful the addiction was. You only know the power of your enemy when you seek to resist him.
However, an ancient observation about God comforted me and challenged me greatly the other day: God is everywhere at the same time. There is no place, large or small, distant to us or near us, where God is not present all the time.
God is present in every cell that craves something that feels good, but isn’t good. God is just as present in the cells of my body as God is present in the most distant galaxy.
“7 I can never escape from your Spirit! I can never get away from your presence!
8 If I go up to heaven, you are there; if I go down to the grave, you are there.
9 If I ride the wings of the morning, if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
10 even there your hand will guide me, and your strength will support me.
11 I could ask the darkness to hide me and the light around me to become night–
12 but even in darkness I cannot hide from you. To you the night shines as bright as day. Darkness and light are the same to you.
13 You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous– how well I know it.
15 You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.” (Psalm 139:7-15, New Living Translation. Italics in the quoted verses is my own.)
However, is God’s omnipresence good news or bad news?
That depends on whether God is really good and has our best interest in God’s mind and heart. I believe that goodness is indeed the way God is. However, I freely admit that this is a statement of faith, and that there is plenty of evidence that would suggest that there is either an evil god or no god at all.
I have a friend who is a very fine friend and a very fine artist. He gave me one of his pieces that I like a lot. It is a small block of wood with a canvas stretched out on it. It is entirely black—except for one very tiny point of light. He calls the piece “Hope.”
Frequently, I seem to be able to see only the darkness. Sometimes, I can see the point of light, but it seems way too small to make any difference.
But once in a while, I see more. I see hope. Perhaps the presence of a good God everywhere, even at the cellular level, is a point of light in the darkness, a beacon of hope.
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