As I was walking home from buying groceries today, I noticed an old man sitting on the outside stoop of my apartment building. I walked past him and and we exchanged glances, and I was immediately struck by the sadness in this man’s eyes. They were wet and perpetually glossed over, as if they were made of glass. I had my headphones in my ears, bag of groceries in my hands, and walked right past this man. The first thought that came to mind was, “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
As I walked through the front doors of my building and into the foyer, I realized I couldn’t leave it as that. I recognized something inside of that man, and he needed someone. I can’t really explain the feeling in detail, but I felt it, and the voices in my head began telling me all the reasons why I shouldn’t look back. The loudest of these was the voice telling me not to walk up to him because if he is in fact fine, he’ll think I’m weird, or I’ll be a bother to him.
I stood in the foyer for a good 30 seconds before I garnered the courage to walk back outside and sit down with this man. I placed my hand on his shoulder and asked him if he was alright. With a look of deep sadness, he responded in a language I didn’t understand - as it turned out, he only spoke Polish, not English. We chatted for a few minutes, attempting to find common ground across two separate worlds. We didn’t get anywhere (despite several Google translate attempts), but I realized that didn’t matter. Nothing I said was going to help this man in any way - what I could offer at that moment was my presence, and that was enough.
Eventually, the old man’s daughter came from around the corner to pick him up. She too spoke Polish, and the only thing I understood for the entire conversation was the “thank you” she spoke in English as we parted ways. I walked back through the door and got into the elevator, moved by the experience I just had. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal for the old man, maybe he was totally fine after all and didn’t want to be bothered, but the point was I showed up. This got me thinking…
It’s amazing how much resistance I felt to simply sit down with a stranger, especially one I perceived as in need. It would have been so much “easier” to just continue on my way and let the image of that old man and his sad eyes fade from my memory. It would have been easier to make up stories in my head about why it was the “right thing to do” to not sit down with him. None of those stories would have been true, but they would have given me some semblance of fabricated peace, reminiscent of Pontius Pilate “washing his hands before the multitude”.
I spend a good amount of time commenting on the woes of the cultural milieu, but I realized something after this chance encounter. What we are missing most is each other. We are submerged in our own minds and our own worlds, sucked into our phones and our problems, desperately trying to fix our lives and “figure things out”. We only poke our heads above water to get things we think we want - sex, money, validation, acceptance. Maybe this is not true for you, but I know it is for me. It felt almost taboo for me to show genuine care for a stranger. That could just be a me problem, but I can’t help but think it points at something much bigger.
I first heard the term “ministry of presence” in a recent interview with Shia Lebeouf, ironically enough. I don’t know the man or the details of his story so I won’t talk about him, but I will say I was moved by this phrase. It’s as simple as it sounds - showing up for others with zero expectations, neither to receive anything nor to give anything. Just simply showing up. It seems to me that many of us have lost our connection with this ministry, not only in giving it but also receiving it. How often do we push others away when we are in pain? How often do we retreat into ourselves instead of letting others in?
To me, this has a direct tie-in with self-worth. In our culture we are taught that worth comes from productivity and value-adding. We perceive our worth to another person (and vice versa) as our ability to offer them something, to give them something in exchange for approval or acceptance. What if I told you that was all a lie? What if I told you that your mere presence was enough to call worthy? You don’t need words, you don’t need bartering chips, you don’t need to offer anything at all. All you need to be is you, existing in the space that you do.
If we all believed this, its implications across our culture would be profound. It isn’t an overnight process, but you have everything you need to begin the journey. You have you. Offer your ministry of presence to someone in need this week - you’ll know it when you see it, I promise. Notice the resistance and the stories you tell yourself. Overcome them, and you’ll be amazed at what you find on the other side.
In my experience, though it can be difficult and sometimes very sad , being present for others - strangers or friends-gives back a million fold more than it takes....
So proud of you!!!!