I am a theology nerd. I’ll admit it. I love the nuances of talking about theology. I love reading Jürgen Moltmann, Miroslav Volf, James Cone, Christine Pohl, and others. To me, there’s nothing better than sitting in the sunlight with the fall breeze, a cup of great coffee, and a new theology book to devour. I miss sitting through lectures on obscure topics that combine biblical text, shades of Greek words, interpretations from the early church, and philosophical discourse.

But there are places where theology might not be appropriate or needed, even when it is “asked for” or demanded.

A few nights ago I was awakened by a phone call and listened to a story of tragedy. I sat on the phone listening to a person I did not know try to process through their pain, rage, and grief. And at one point he finally let loose:

I mean, where does God get off? Who does he think he is? If God would allow this to happen, then he isn’t the kind of god I would want to serve, I’ll tell you that much. So you tell me, pastor.… Where the bleep is God?!?!? Because I sure don’t know.… If he even exists. You believe in this stuff; tell me why I should believe in a god like this.

That was the gist of his words, massively edited to make it publishable without a parental warning.

My response … was simply silence. I didn’t try to defend God. I didn’t try to deflect his anger. I didn’t try to rationalize theodicy and the problem of evil. There were no quotes from Lewis or Kreeft or Pemberton that I came armed with to overcome his objections. What this person needed was someone to take the brunt of their anger, who would sit with them while they screamed, and who was secure enough in their own faith that they knew what they believed about God but didn’t feel the need to defend God in the moment. Aside from words of empathy, which I hope he received well, all I offered was this: “There’s an awful lot of the Bible that screams at God, too. You tell God whatever is on your heart right now. He will take it.” And I promised to pray for him and for all those involved after we hung up (he didn’t want to hear a prayer right then).

My story isn’t unique: those are the calls waking up pastors, preachers, and ministers every night. My response isn’t unique or perfect: many others do a much better job of it than I do!

In chaplaincy, we talk about the importance of non-anxious presence. That regardless of what you are hearing in that moment, you have two goals: 1) being with the person in front of you, listening and asking for clarification and being with them in that moment; and 2) being calm on the outside and engaging appropriately, regardless of whatever emotions (i.e., fear, anger, loathing, excitement) are going through you at that moment. What the other person needs is someone who can just be with them in the moment, alongside them in their pain or grief. [1]

But to have that ministry of presence, we must experience our own ministry of Presence: the presence of God. We must take the time to be with God, allowing God to examine our own heart and life. We have to live into the prayer of the psalmist: “Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting” (Ps. 139:23-24). I need the ministry of the presence of God. I must spend time with God in quiet, in examination, in prayer. I need to ask God to show me where I need to grow or confess or repent or seek reconciliation. I need to spend time letting God bring light into the dark places in my soul; allowing God to break me and mold me into what he wants me to be; and letting God celebrate with me where I am living into my giftedness and his grace for his glory. Only through God’s ministry of presence in my own life can I hope to do that with others.

I can tell the difference when I have been spending time with God and when I haven’t. When I’ve been allowing God to work on me, I am less anxious, less defensive, less worried about getting in the last word, and more prone to giving grace and mercy and speaking truth in love. When I haven’t … those things are far harder to come by!

Ignatius taught his followers the practice of Examen, stopping twice a day to do the following steps: [2]

1. Remember that God is with you.

2. Review the day with gratitude.

3. Replay your day, looking at it through a “God lens.” What went well? What challenged you?

4. Reflect on any emotions you felt and what you learned about yourself or others.

5. Repent and reboot for tomorrow.

For me, this is a way in which I can live into the prayer, “Search me, God, and know my heart.”

Only through partnering with God to allow him to do his work can we hope to sit in silence with those who are hurting, joining the God who is close to the brokenhearted.

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[1] I always remind myself that Job’s friends did the right thing for the first seven days … and then they opened their mouths!

[2] These words are not unique to me, but I cannot remember where I first encountered them!