Linked and Present (Job 2:11-13)

 Sermon: “Linked and Present”

Two years after seminary—and two years into being an ordained minister—I was about to begin a new ministry in a small farming community. A week before I moved to this community, a friend asked what my new address was going to be, and he wanted the full nine-digit zip code. I didn’t know the full nine-digit zip code, so I got on the phone and called the little post office in the town that I was moving to.

A lady answered the phone. I said, “Hi, my name is Danny Bradfield…”

She interrupted me and said, “Oh, you’re the new pastor! I’ve heard about you!”

“Oh. Yes,” I said. “I’m calling to see if I can find out the full nine-digit zip code I’ll have once I move…”

She said, “Oh, you don’t need that, honey. We know where you’re at!”

That’s the kind of community it was: it was literally a community where everybody knew everybody.

The church was one mile north of the high school. All that stood between the church and the school was one house, a railroad track, and a big rice field.

A couple days—maybe a week—after I arrived, I got a call from the high school. It was spring break, and a terrible tragedy had taken place involving one of their students. 

Many students were already finding out about it, but some wouldn’t know until they returned to classes after break, and everyone would be affected by the news, since it was such a small school in such a small community. And the school wanted to know, since I was the only pastor for twenty miles in any direction: Would I be willing to be present, on campus, that first day back from spring break, in case any students needed someone to talk to?

Well, I didn’t know what words I could say that might help, especially since I was so new in the community and didn’t know anyone yet; but, I said yes, of course; and I went.

Well, it turned out that my worries about what I might say weren’t necessary; no students came, looking for someone to talk to.

At the end of the school day, I left, feeling useless, that I wasn’t needed, and grumbling about how I could have been doing other things rather than wasting a whole day sitting there, waiting for something that never happened.

But later that week, I heard from someone at the school that it really meant a lot that I was there. I thought, well, they’re just being nice…trying to make me feel better…

But then, on another day, someone else said the same thing…

I said, “But I didn’t do anything!”

And they said: “But you were there…and that meant a lot…”

And that was the day that I learned that words aren’t nearly as important as presence.

It was a lesson I don’t remember learning in seminary. Maybe someone mentioned it; but mostly, seminary was about helping us learn the right words to say, especially when we preach. That was the main task that they were preparing us for: to preach. To speak. To utter words of wisdom, comfort, and challenge.

They didn’t really teach us how to not speak, and just be present.

Maybe we would have learned this lesson in seminary if we had spent more time studying Job.

Job had experienced a terrible tragedy… Actually, Job experienced multiple tragedies; tragedy upon tragedy…

What happened was:

A messenger came to Job and informed him that the servants that had been caring for his oxen and donkeys had all been killed, along with the livestock…

And while that messenger was still speaking, another messenger arrived and informed Job that the servants who had been caring for his sheep had likewise all been killed, and the flocks as well…

And while that messenger was still speaking, a third messenger arrived and informed Job that the servants who had been watching over the camels had all been killed, and all the camels carried off;

And while that messenger was still speaking, another messenger arrived and informed Job that his own sons and daughters had all been killed in a terrible windstorm.

And then Job himself became gravely ill; his entire body was covered with sores that caused him great pain.

So Job had lost all his sources of income, all his means of living, all his servants, and all his children—everything, really—and had himself become sick to the point of not being able to get out of bed…sick to the point that his appearance deteriorated so much, that he was unrecognizable…

And when Job’s three friends heard about this, their hearts went out to Job; and they traveled from their homes, met up, and then journeyed together, to offer Job comfort and consolation.

And when they saw Job, they wept with him, they grieved with him, and they sat with him…

But they did not speak. What could they say? What could they possibly say? They just sat, and shared in their friend’s sorrow.

And the scripture doesn’t say, but I think Job found great comfort in that. His friends cared enough to be with him, to mourn with him, to be present with him.

After seven days, Job finally was able to put some words to the trauma he was experiencing. He let loose a lament, cursing the day he was born.

And Job’s friends, then, felt the expectation to respond.

Which was unfortunate.

Their words did not comfort Job the same way their silence had. They were trying to come up with explanations and solutions; yet Job just needed them to listen, and be present. For seven days, they had done that so well. If only they hadn’t started talking!

When they sat with Job, listened to Job, wept with Job, Job felt seen. His friends made space for Job’s grief and sorrow. 

And that is a powerful gift. To make space for a person’s grief and sorrow. To be present with them in a way that lets them know that you acknowledge whatever it is that they are going through, and that you understand how very difficult it is.

It’s your presence that makes the difference.

This is the scripture for the third day at camp. I’m not sure yet how we’re going to teach it.

Maybe, what we need to do on this day, is let the children teach the adults, because I think children know how to be present better than adults.

We adults are so often distracted by our regrets from the past and our worries about the future…

We set our focus on projects at work, or projects at home…

And we forget to just be present.

And when someone expresses their sorrow, or their anger, or their despair, we are sometimes too quick to offer our explanation, our advice, or our judgment… When all they really need is our presence.

Back when the Black Lives Matter movement began to gain attention, I would hear statements made by leaders in that movement, and in those statements, there was anger, and there was outrage, and there was accusation; and sometimes I felt judged. And the judgment seemed unfair to me. And I’d want to defend myself, and respond with something like, “Well, I’m not like that,” and in my mind I’d accuse them of making generalizations, or sometimes exaggerating the situation, just for attention.

Fortunately, I did not respond.

Instead, I remained silent. And I asked myself: what is the source of their anger? What lies behind the accusations? What have they experienced? 

And I listened for the answers.

And I realized that so many people were experiencing things that I have never had to experience. 

And even though their cries of outrage were hard to listen to, I learned that they are borne out of a deep trauma that has existed throughout our country’s history, and which still exists today. Their harsh words are the words of people who have experienced deep pain.

And I realized that if I wanted to be a part of this country’s healing, the first thing I needed to do was listen. I needed to be silent, and listen, and be present.

Only then would I understand the grief, the sorrow, the trauma, and the injustice. 

And again, I learned that it was better to be silent… and present… and to not speak… if I wanted to be a part of the healing that is so desperately needed.

How can Jesus help us be present? 

Jesus was often present to people, especially to those who were the most vulnerable people of his time. The blind. The deaf. Lepers. The poor. People labeled “sinners” by those in positions of power.

Jesus knew how to be present with them. 

And Jesus challenged those in positions of power and authority to do the same… because the people with power and authority more often did the opposite: they offered explanations and gave instructions that didn’t really take into account what people were experiencing, because they weren’t present enough and weren’t listening enough to even know what the people were experiencing.

And because of that, the explanations they offered and the instructions they gave ended up being an even greater burden placed on the backs of the people.

Jesus, on the other hand, knew how to be present. He knew how to look at someone and really see them; he knew how to hear their words, and really hear what was going on in their heart.

Jesus once allowed a “sinful woman” to anoint his feet with tears, and dry them with her hair. The religious authority figures around him were shocked and offended; they tried to keep things proper and in good order, and everything about her was a threat to that.

But in allowing her to perform this act, Jesus acknowledged her presence, and he forced those around him to acknowledge her presence as well. He was present to her, and he made her present to them. 

It was his way of saying to her, “I see you. I see who you really are. I see your pain, your suffering.” He didn’t really say these things with words, because words can be cheap; but he said them by welcoming her presence, welcoming her touch, and affirming her in the sight of those who tried very hard not to see her or acknowledge her.

That’s the power of presence.…

One way that Jesus is present with us today, is through the Spirit. 

Before Jesus ascended, he told his disciples that the Spirit would come upon them, and on the day of Pentecost, it happened in a unique and significant way. 

In case you don’t know the story, it’s in the 2nd chapter of Acts: people had gathered in Jerusalem from all over the world, because of the Pentecost festival; and suddenly, there was a sound like a rushing wind; and little tongues of fire appeared over the heads of the disciples.

That’s why we wear red on Pentecost, because of those tongues of fire.

And then, they all started proclaiming the good news in the languages of all those who were present. The Spirit gave them the ability to speak other languages, which honored the diversity of those who were present and made the good news accessible to all.

And the good news of Jesus began to spread. It began to spread like a wildfire. 

And by these signs of the Spirit, the people knew that Christ was present, with them and among them, and among all people—people of every nation, every culture, speaking every language…

And the presence of Christ is with us as well, especially when we need that presence the most. When we need guidance, or comfort, or strength, that presence is with us.

And when we need to be challenged, or, when we need to speak out, or, when we need to shut up and listen for a while, and learn to be present ourselves—in all those times, the Spirit of Christ is present with us.