Recently I was eating at a restaurant when I noticed a group of young people at a nearby table. What caught my attention wasn’t what they were doing. It was what they weren’t. They were completely silent, all looking at their phones.
I wondered if, at some point, they would lower their digital devices and engage each other in conversation. They didn’t. Not once. Finally, one of them raised his head and asked, “Everyone done?” and they walked out of the restaurant.
For someone like me, who grew up before the Internet, it was a surreal sight. I must have watched them for at least 20 minutes, connected to the Internet, but disconnected from each other. Together, but alone.
It’s not just young people who’ve fallen prey to the habit of option for virtual connection over physical ones. We all do, and it’s not good for us.
During the pandemic, we got a dramatic glimpse of what happens when humans are robbed of physical contact. In response to governmental restrictions, many spent months with little or no contact with people outside their homes. Most still had access to phones and the Internet. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly. Rates of loneliness, anxiety, and depression shot through the roof.
Virtual connection isn’t all bad. But these tools can never replace in-person interactions. At their best, online connections should facilitate physical gatherings and in-person friendships.
Social media is a great tool to communicate ideas and make friends. You can impact greater numbers of people on these platforms. But ultimately, I’ve found that while your reach through social media may be broad, the impact that you have on people is shallow.
In-person relationships, on the other hand, are the opposite. You can only be present with a small number of people, but the impact you have on them is more profound. It’s narrow, but deep.
This post is adapted from the book Just Show Up: How Small Acts of Faithfulness Change Everything (A Guide for Exhausted Christians) (Moody, 2023) by Drew Dyck.
Show Up Like Jesus
Being physically present is a richer experience. It’s healthy and humanizing. But there’s a more compelling reason to show up in person. And it’s simply this—that’s what Jesus did.
We Christians hold to the bizarre and beautiful belief that the God of the universe became a human in the person of Jesus of Nazareth.
The disciple John put it this way: “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (John 1:14). I appreciate the colloquial spin The Message puts on this passage. “The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood.” I like that because it emphasizes the physical nature of what happened. God truly took on flesh and moved into our midst.
Why was it necessary that Jesus come to earth physically? Well, the big reason is that Jesus came to die for our sins. A phantom Messiah couldn’t do that. We needed a flesh-and-blood Savior.
Being human meant he could identify with our pain and struggles as well. The book of Hebrews says of Jesus, “we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin.”
He also came to earth to show us how to love each other. And physical presence was central to that mission.
Jesus didn’t isolate himself like many spiritual teachers of his time. He dove into the mess of humanity, touching diseased skin and disfigured limbs. He let children sit on his lap and prostitutes anoint his feet. Even when he taught, he often did so with people literally pressing against him.
A Loving Presence
We endlessly debate what Jesus would say or do if he was walking the earth today. But there’s one thing no honest reader of the Bible can doubt. He would be with people. He would touch people who were desperate and hurting and lonely. And that’s exactly what his followers should be doing too.
I must confess I’m not good at this. Right now, I’m writing these words in a coffee shop. A few minutes ago, a homeless man walked in and sat near me. Occasionally, an unpleasant odor wafts over from his table. He’s not bothering anyone, but I’m wimp about bad smells. Now I’m wondering how long I need to sit here before I can leave without hurting his feelings. Yes, I’m wondering this as I’m writing about how Jesus embraced messy, hurting, and (I’m sure) smelly people. The irony is not lost on me.
I understand all too well the importance of actively loving people, of being with them. But it’s easy for me to leave the hands-on stuff to others. I fight the instinct to rope myself off from the muddy stream of humanity and communicate, if at all, from a safe distance. Give me fresh coffee, strong WIFI, and my cozy little family. I’m good.
But that’s not the way of Jesus. Following him means embracing the way he related to others. It requires choosing incarnation over disembodiment. It means being present, even when it’s uncomfortable and costly. We’re never more like Jesus than when we show up in person.
The Power of Presence
Thankfully I’ve encountered people who model what it looks like to do this.
I think of my son’s 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Heinz. The first time I met her, I didn’t know what to think. Her enthusiasm for her students seemed over the top. “For me, this isn’t just a job,” she said, fighting back tears. “It’s a calling.” I’d soon learn she was serious.
Our son was in a basketball league, and she asked if she could attend a game. There are few things more tedious than watching elementary students play basketball (trust me). The games have more turnovers than points. But she wanted to be there for him—and she came. She also sat in the bleachers for the games of another boy in her class. He wasn’t easy to be around. His daily outbursts distracted the other students and disrupted the entire class. But Mrs. Heinz started attending his games on the weekends and things began to change. My son told me about how the boy’s behavior slowly improved. By the end of the year, he was thriving.
I guess when you see that someone cares enough to show up for you, you’ll do just about anything to please them. That’s the power of presence.
My friend Darryl Forbes is the longtime pastor of a church in Florida. Recently he shared a story about the oldest member of his church. He felt God was nudging him to go visit her in the nursing home—and he went. “She was happier than I’d ever seen her,” he wrote “We talked, sang, and prayed. I had no idea it would be our last visit.” She died the next day. “She was one of the original members of the church I pastor,” Darryl wrote. “She used to sit on a pillow for comfort. For the last two years we left it where she usually sat. Today I couldn’t stop looking at it while I preached. Her battle is won.”
I have no doubt that God prompted Darryl to visit her that day. And I’m glad he listened. Without showing up in person, that elderly saint would not have received the loving sendoff she so richly deserved. And Darryl would have missed out on providing it for her.
The Extra Mile
These stories inspire me. They make me want to go the extra mile when I see needs arise. But I don’t just know the power of presence secondhand. I’ve benefited from people showing up for me.
I have an anxiety disorder. In the weeks before last Christmas I found myself at a particularly low point. I was struggling to sleep and spent days pacing around my house. My brother Darren heard about what I was going through and one night he sent me a text. “I’m picking you up in 30 minutes.”
When I got in his car, he told me about his plan. He wanted to buy winter coats and hand them out to the homeless in downtown Portland. So we went to Costco, and each carried a pile of coats to the checkout. We tucked a twenty-dollar bill into each pocket and spent the night handing them out to grateful men and women shivering on the streets. But I had a feeling our little mission was more about helping me. And it was exactly what I needed.
I had to get out of the house. I needed to stop thinking about my problems. Spending the night helping others was the best thing for my mental health. But I would have never done it if my brother had not shown up that night.
I think most of us want to help when we see others in need. But we stress out over exactly how to help. We worry we won’t have the right thing to say. It helps to remember that your presence is usually enough.
The Healing of Presence
A while back, I read a touching story about Ludwig van Beethoven. Because he was deaf, the German composer found social interactions awkward. But when he heard that a friend had lost his son, Beethoven hurried to the man’s house.
Once inside, he offered no words of comfort, but there was a piano in the room. Beethoven sat down and for half an hour he poured out his grief through his music—and then he left. The friend later remarked that no other visit had been as meaningful.
I love that story. But the scary thing is that Beethoven could have stayed home. He had every reason to. He wasn’t good with words. There were other, more eloquent people to comfort the bereaved man. But he showed up and offered what he could. And it was more than enough.
That’s true for you, too. There are people who need your help. People who are hurting. And if you come alongside them, it will mean the world. You’ll find ways to encourage and comfort them.
God always puts a piano in the room. Just show up and play it with all your heart!
This post is adapted from the book Just Show Up: How Small Acts of Faithfulness Change Everything (A Guide for Exhausted Christians) (Moody, 2023) by Drew Dyck.
(Photo by Stewart Black | Flickr)
