A Jon Post
It seems like I’ve been “doing something” for a while now. Layne and I have been pretty busy over the last couple months and I’ve felt like I’ve lost some of my time for something else. Something very African and very much a part of what Layne and I try to do in our ministry.
Just standing there.
It’s funny, but as an American, I have learned that it is not an acceptable part of my culture to be around people or next to someone and just stand there. We have to be doing something, we have to be talking about something, we must have a purpose. Being here I’ve learned that those things don’t necessarily translate to the culture I’m in now.
As I’ve rushed around doing something on a nearly continuous basis (or at least felt like I have) for the last couple months, I’ve missed some opportunities to stop…
And just stand there.
I don’t honestly know who coined the phrase “Don’t just stand there, do something!” but whoever it was I don’t think they have ever been next to a man dying on a bed who has not had a face to smile at him for 6 months. I don’t think they’ve ever sat beside a mother whose son has just lost his 2-year battle with a sickness that rotted flesh from bone and ripped breath from lungs. That phrase really makes no sense in such a context.
When faced with such powerlessness… I think one of the most encouraging suggestions is:
“Don’t just do something, stand there!”
Just stand there. Just hold a hand. Just weep with them. Don’t say anything, don’t try to fix what cannot be mended with words or service… just stand there.
A tragically troubled man, who served God and loved people named Henri Nouwen once said,
“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not healing, not curing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”
I miss those times.
I don’t want to forget that Christ can be found, Christ can be known, Christ can be seen…
By just standing there.
