Showing Up

Like anyone, there are days when I don’t want to get out of bed. I can think of a myriad of reasons why I just want to roll over and go back to sleep. I remember my senior year of college. I was struggling to find motivation to attend church services and home group. Yes, sometimes even Bible majors want to worship at Bedside Baptist!

I would reason, “Sunday is my only day to sleep in. God said we need rest. I don’t feel like I am on the same page spiritually as the current sermon series. I will get more out of reading my Bible and praying at home. Home group feels like it lasts forever. The leader doesn’t seem prepared. The other guys don’t really open up. I could use that time to study for class. It is someone else’s turn to serve at the church.”

A friend of mine asked me, “Why haven’t I seen you at church lately?” Instead of making excuses, I told her that I was simply battling to get out of bed to go. She said something that has stuck with me for years now: “If you feel a battle going on, my advice is to get up and go! Satan knows that something good is waiting for you there. He doesn’t want you to have it. He is a thief. The more reasons why you want to stay in bed, the more reasons to show up anyway. Give it a try and see!”

She was right. Every time I felt a battle waging, I would give up the fight and resign my self to show up anyway. Some days, I would even arrive late. But, I never left regretting it. That day’s sermon would feel “spot on,” and I was always encouraged.

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When I became a pastor at The Village Church, I would sometimes be called into situations that felt “above my pay grade.” You can take a million counseling courses and have a strong knowledge of the Bible. But are you ever fully prepared to meet with a parent who just lost a child? Do you ever feel ready to help a family face the aftermath of suicide? Are there words you can say that will console an abandoned spouse?

In tough situations, I would often have the thought: “I don’t know what all I am going to be walking into when I get there.” But I would quickly find comfort in God’s sovereignty. I would think: “Though this may be incredibly difficult and even messy, the Lord was not surprised by this. He will meet me there. He knows their situation and hears their cries.”

Then, I would get in my car and go. It was important to show up anyway. Often, people aren’t looking for answers or advice. It is a comfort for someone just to sit with them. It is often appropriate just to listen to them, hug them, and cry with them.

If words are needed, we have the promise found in Matthew 10:19-20—“When they deliver you over, do not be anxious how you are to speak or what you are to say, for what you are to say will be given to you in that hour. For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.”

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I have a developing passion for what some call the ministry of presence. Showing up anyway, being there when it counts, living a trustworthy life, doing the right thing even when it’s not the easy thing, getting out of bed and going, having integrity in the small things, letting my yes be yes—those are all aspects of really being there for others.

I realize that in writing this, I am now subject to the scrutiny of the readers. Please be gracious! I know that I haven’t always been there. I have had days when I let the phone ring—when I have put my own selfish desires above the real needs of others.

But, more and more, I see accessibility as a personal core value. This does not mean constant availability. I am a man, not God. Instead, it means letting people know how to reach me and then getting back to them. It means being proactive when I know others are hurting. It means being human enough that people will want to find me or want to see me when I show up, because they know I care. Jesus was with His disciples.

Something I have learned—I am the best witness when people experience my with-ness. When Jesus gave the Great Commandment, He not only commanded to “go and make disciples,” but He also promised His presence with us always (Matthew 28:19-20). We often forget to quote that last part, and we are thus prone to abandon our own disciples. But the Apostle Paul put it this way: “So, being affectionately desirous of you, we were ready to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you had become very dear to us” (1 Thessalonians 2:8).

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A godly woman once told me, “If you are asking God for a breakthrough, expect things to get harder first. There is nothing to break through if things suddenly become soft.”

Honestly, I have felt things becoming noticeably harder here. In terms of church, I often face not only cultural expectations (of the way things should be done here in general), but also pastoral expectations (of the way pastors should go about their business here). This can quickly cause misunderstanding, which I have faced this month.

My students are great. But children can be mean. Many students will comment about my weight, my bald head, my skin, my hairy arms, my clothes, and my Korean. A student told me, when we were learning opposites, “I do not think you are handsome, but you are not ugly. I think you are…so-so.” Well, I guess it could have been worse! But regardless of your self-confidence, we all have flashbacks to the playground—where the bullies are throwing rocks and picking on us. When your life is on display, and you are the subject of cultural critics, you often face your insecurity.

At school, I also have the added pressure of uber-involved parents. They will openly criticize my “teaching style,” claiming that I should abandon my “American style” for the Korean way of education. However, a definition of the “Korean way” is often nebulous. It means more grammar to some, more speaking to others. It means more games to some, less activities to others. It all came to a head though when several mothers came to visit my class to consider enrolling their children. Five minutes in, they all got up and walked out. They said my class didn’t “measure up” to the other school they visited.

Changes are constant. Plus, I am living in a language gap. My students rotate in and out. Events happen last minute. There is a lack of communication. This makes me uncomfortable and stressed. I like to plan ahead. I like to wrap my mind around all that will be taking place when I get there. Here, I don’t have that luxury. I have been faced with the question, “What am I supposed to do when I can’t seem to get a handle on anything here, and I just don’t feel like I can deal the internal stress of it all?”

A friend emailed me this week and reminded me of 2 Corinthians 12:8-10—“Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

Elder Jung told me that, from his vantage point, the most important thing I offer is my relationship with these students. He told me that many of them have absentee dads. Their fathers will work all day, stay out all night drinking with friends. They lack male role models. They need men who will play with them, listen to them—truly be with them.

So, what will I do, given the battles I have been facing? I will remember that we love because God first loves us. And His love is a steadfast kind that endures forever. There is nothing flaky about that kind of love. I have made a decision: I will get out of bed and show up anyway. Good things are waiting there for me. He is not surprised by any of this. He will meet me there. He is with me always, even until the end of the age. Amen.