Serving and the Presence of God

I suppose you should know that I am dating a friend of mine*.  It has and will influence my thoughts, and my prayers, and even my perception of God; all things for which I am grateful.

We went to see a friend get baptized a few Sundays ago.  It was a beautiful moment.  He was asked who he proclaimed as Lord, and my friend practically shouted 'Jesus Christ!'.  It gave me chills.  To see, enacted, what I believe has happened internally, is a stunning thing.  Sacraments.  Still not sure what to make of them, but they are wonderful.

But the experience was not the easiest, particularly for my girlfriend.  Returning to her old church brought back hard memories, things with which she had not dealt in years.  She wrapped her arm around mine, and it seemed the slightest expression of affection, but primarily a clinging for strength.  I didn't know what troubled her, or how to respond at all, but I felt a joyful responsibility there.  I never want to be the hope to which she clings**, but I prayed that somehow I might be to her God's comforting presence.  If the Spirit dwells in me, it's not a stretch, to be manifest the love of God.  We the church are called His body, and we were created as His idols, images, representatives.  Thus my desire, strongly present but which I did not entirely understand, was a desire not to be god, but to manifest God.  I desired to comfort, to be an instrument of comfort, by connecting her to the Comforter, much as one sharing scripture with another can be the very voice of God.  Though I had no strength worth mentioning in myself, I desired her to be steadied far above the storms, and prayed that I might be a part of that grounding.

And it occurred to me that the most attractive part of a human relationship was not receiving, but serving.

Now, ye southern religious were likely taught that it is theoretically better to give than to receive.  I was.  But it had never struck me so powerfully that what I desired, my created purpose, was to serve.  To love. 

And I could not process that all at once.  While I was driving and praying about why the morning had seemed so momentous to me, the passage when Jesus washes His disciples' feet came to mind.  Meditating on that as I shopped for groceries and walked around town brought much of this to the surface.

In hearing Lizzy's struggles and fears, and submitting them to a God of strength, love, and peace, I was carried into His presence with her.  There is something about participating in what God is doing that knits me to Him.  Discipleship is similar- I often grow most deeply as I walk alongside another.  And as I saw pain, and called upon the Balm to heal, I found great joy, joy in turmoil and pain, but joy.  And I learned, just a very small bit, about being the presence of God.

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* Elizabeth Willingham.  She is wonderfully pretty, a phenomenal photographer, and loves well.  More than that, she is loved incredibly by God, and so is undeniably beautiful.  Way out of my league.

**  She brought this up with me after the Lord brought it up to her on a run.  Baller status.