PRESENCE IS THE THING
For one who reveres words over nearly every other thing, I have become a student of the quiet.
____________________
The conversation began with “I am worried.” Followed by my reply:
Silence.
Or more, a pause.
My pause is invisible on the other end of the line.
But I knew that he could feel me there—
An understanding marked as much by the years we’ve been in this thing together
as the rhythmic breath, one and then the other,
coming from somewhere remarkably calm inside of me.
After dismantling the hard of it and putting it back together in a way that would satisfy us both, I disconnected.
The call.
But more from the words spoken that felt the opposite of the life-giving affirmation I seek.
This is where the grace falls over me like the elegance and cleansing of first snow.
My spirit whispers,
The words were not the message.
His presence was.
How many times have we failed to be there because we are more concerned that we will fail at saying the right thing?
In the hard moment, there is no right thing. Only the longing to be seen, remembered, thought of, prayed over, when what “is” is more complicated than what is felt.
I spent the afternoon rehearsing every sentence he spoke—
trying to fit a bucketful of Heavenly meaning into what felt like a teardrop-sized faith.
How often in our own misunderstanding of who God is do we try to decode what we hear into something entirely “else?”
The thing is…and this is where I want to be excruciatingly clear—
He called.
The words were irrelevant to the humanity, vulnerable and available, on the other end of the line.
In truth, those that need us, who crave our presence, are not seeking right words, wise counsel, or solutions that elude even midnight conversations with God.
What we yearn for is the willingness of another to enter the isolation we feel.
No word. Not even one thoughtfully chosen, can take the place of another’s breath on the other end of the line.
I am here.
Three words containing the vastness of a sought-after faith.
Is He real? Does He know me? Is He there?
This theology of presence. Of coming close.
It is everything to the one who questions whether they are understood, remembered, seen.
The world is flooded with voices telling me to be anxious, joyless, and afraid.
And then there is One who comforts and counsels without uttering a sound.
Holy Spirit, make your presence known today.
In the imperfect words.
In the quiet breath.
In the sacrifice of being there.
NOTES
SOUL MAP
concern → the call → imperfect words → searching → silence → recognition → presence → grace → HERE
The voice on the other end of the phone belonged to the lead oncologist.
A man whose days are filled with the complicated business of caring for people whose lives have become not their own.
He called because he was worried.
I spent hours afterward searching his words for something God might be telling me. Something hopeful. Something reassuring. Something I could carry into another uncertain day.
And then I understood.
His very busy life had made space for what was happening in mine.
The words had occupied me so completely that I nearly missed the extraordinary gift of his attention.
He had no obligation to find the perfect thing to say. No certainty to offer. No promise that would make the hard things disappear.
But he called.
And somewhere in the quiet that followed, I recognized the Holy Spirit communicating something far more enduring than the reassurance I had been seeking.
We see you.
REFLECTION
How many times have you avoided calling someone on your heart because you didn't know what to say?
What were you afraid of getting wrong?
And what might have been offered if you had called anyway?
Now, turn the conversation around.
Can you remember a time when you desperately needed to hear from someone?
What were you hoping they would say?
Was it advice? Reassurance? An answer? Or simply the sound of a familiar voice willing to enter the uncertainty with you?
Have you ever been so occupied with what someone said that you overlooked what it cost them to be there?
The time they made. The discomfort they risked. The willingness to enter a conversation neither of you knew how to navigate.
And when you have been the one making the call—
Have you mistaken your inability to change someone's circumstances for having nothing meaningful to offer?
What if the person you are thinking of doesn't need you to understand everything, explain anything, or find the words that make it better?
What if they simply need to know they have not been forgotten?
And perhaps the question that reaches beyond either end of the telephone—
How often have you searched for God's answer in what was said, while overlooking His presence in who showed up?
DROP YOUR PINS
someone on my heart → what I feared saying → the call I made or avoided → what was offered → what I received → what I recognize now → HERE
Or maybe yours begins at the other end of the line.
the call I needed → what I hoped to hear → what was said → what was given → what I nearly missed → what I know now → HERE
_____ → _____ → _____ → _____ → _____ → _____ → HERE
YOU ARE HERE.
Image: My trainer and dear friend, Amanda, took this picture when I was sharing with her that I may have to step away for awhile. We cried together. Not because of some sense of defeat but in the knowing that we had been right here before. When we’re training she reminds me that talking is sometimes [often] a distraction from the work. Isn’t it true that some of our most meaningful connections require no words at all?