The Call to Presence
We live in a world that’s distracting. Whether it is more banal and benign forms of distraction or more insidious, we are constantly pulled from really stopping, really resting. The promise of Jesus from Matthew 11 still is as evocative today as it was when it was first uttered: “Come to me all you who are weary or heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” It’s promise, and it’s an invitation. There is something about human beings that is very true: we don’t like standing still. We don’t like resting. Sure, we may say that we do. But in reality “resting” is all too often another word for vegetative entertainment. In the words of a contemporary musician: “Think of all the roads; think of all their crossings; taking steps is easy; standing still is hard.” This is a diagnosis of our societies. We don’t stop. We don’t stand still. We don’t rest. But this is precisely the invitation that Jesus is offering, to us and to our world.
Brussels is a fast-paced city, much like London, although ten times as small. I have had the privilege of walking alongside the lives of young professionals in Brussels for over two years now as an ICS sponsored staff-member at Holy Trinity Brussels. I am the “Outreach Worker,” which in practice is a professional coffee-drinker and conversationalist. I also help organise conferences at the Chapel for Europe, an ecunmenical venture that we are a part of that brings theological reflection to European issues. In walking alongside these young professionals, and getting to know a few of them very well, God has reinforced in my mind that one of the contemporary sicknesses is distraction. Henri Nouwen, the Dutch-Catholic writer, called it “homelessness” in the 90s. He wrote, “Probably no word better summarizes the suffering of our time than the word ‘homeless.’ It reveals one of our deepest and most painful conditions, the condition of not having a sense of belonging, of not having a place where we can feel safe, cared for, protected, and loved.” This homelessness has deepened in the 21st century. The sickness of distraction deepens this homelessness by expelling any form of rest, of coming into focus as a person. We cannot respond to or even really hear the call of Jesus, his invitation to come to him and rest if we aren’t paying attention, or if we think we are resting under false pretenses. We resist coming to rest and coming home, though we long for it.
There’s actually a cartoon that sums this all up very succinctly. These top two characters want to go do something scary, something exciting, something distracting, but the old man responses with the truth: the scariest thing in today’s society is stopping and reflecting. This is the scariest thing, but it is also something that is craved. We want to stop, to rest, but we also fear it, because we fear what we might discover about ourselves and our needs. In walking alongside those in Brussels, God has allowed me to open up a space where they can come to reflect and to rest. I am oddity in the halls of the European Parliament: an American, a Philosopher, a Christian. These are the labels by which I am seen. My voice gives my extraction away, my studies come up in conversation, and my faith is lived out and spoken in word and deed. It puts me on the margin, but it also removes any sort of agenda from what I do. I am not there to rustle feathers or lobby for particular policy. I am there to talk, to walk alongside, to pray, to be. I am there to be a space away from the distractions. I am there to issue an invitation: come and rest; come and follow Jesus, who gives rest.
Often, my conversations with those working in the Parliament begin with the question, "How are you doing?" There is a little banter, some pleasantries; you know the drill. But then the conversation eventually turns and this question is asked: "How are you really doing?" And that's where the conversation really begins. These harried, harassed, over-committed, over-busy professionals (modern human beings, it seems) get a chance to reflect and to ask the questions that matter. What am I doing with my life? Is there meaning beyond this? How can I fill this void? Those are some sentiments that I hear often. And they can only be asked when we stop. When we turn from the distractions of this world, even if they are good things -- helping people, working against human trafficking or to help refugees -- when we turn from these, we find Jesus welcoming us to rest. We get to ask the questions that drive us to him. We are called from distraction into presence.
And this is our great opportunity to witness, especially in the twenty-first century. The Gospel is a call into presence, into the fullness of life. It is a life initiated by Jesus; it is a life capable of being lived only by the grace of God, and it is a life that transforms us and our world. Perhaps, this might be a new way to think about evangelism to some of you. But it is an expression of the euaggeliov that all Christians hear and live. This is the good news of another kind of life. Paul asks in Romans, “Who will deliver me from this body of death?” We hear that and know that means also this body of distraction, of unrest. Without the grace of God and a coming to rest in Jesus Christ, we cannot be delivered from this body of death and distraction into a body of life and presence. This is the kind of life that we witness to. As people who have been called out from distraction and restlessness, into presence and belonging, we have the privilege and the responsibility to extend that to others. But this is not easy.
We read about the cost of presence in Luke 9:57-62: “As they were going along the road, someone said to him, ‘I will follow you wherever you go.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.’ To another he said, ‘Follow me.’ But he said, ‘Lord, first let me go and bury my father.’ But Jesus said to him, ‘Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.’Another said, ‘I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.’” The call of Jesus into a life following him costs everything, the dead bury their dead, there is a loss of home. Jesus responds to his final petitioner with, "No one who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for the Kingdom of God." In our call, we cannot be distracted; we cannot turn back. Jesus demands all of us, all our attention, all our questions, and all our efforts. In that great exertion, though, there is rest. Instead of our selves being pulled in different directions and passions and interests and goals every other day, we have a sole purpose, a unified will. The Christian philosopher Søren Kierkegaard said, "Purity of the heart is to will one thing." Jesus calls us into that, to will the Kingdom come and his will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Distractions will come and many will fall away, but those who run the race to the finish will inherit the prize, eternal and resurrected life. We have all been called to bring others into this journey, into this way, into a life with purpose, undistracted, moving towards our King. In short, we have been called to bring all human projects under the lordship of Christ and to bring his Kingdom. Let us not grow weary in this. Let us be the people who help others come to rest, to move beyond their distractions and encounter the Living God for themselves. In doing so and being so, we will begin to see a new vitality in our churches, in our workplaces, schools, institutions, and governments; in all that we do and all that we say. And we pray, Amen. Even so, come quickly, Lord Jesus.
Jeremy Heuslein, Outreach Worker in the EU Institutions, Brussels
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