“Practicing the presence of God” is one of the weirder disciplines of the Christian life. Until recently, it was a term that evangelicals avoided. It smelled more of the monastery than of the mission hall. Yet, partly due to the popularity of the spiritual classic by Brother Lawrence, and partly due to more general trends of celebrating spiritual disciplines, the practice has become fashionable among evangelicals.
Personally, I don’t think this is a bad thing. Modern civilisation is as effective at casting a veil over the presence of God as it is at keeping the Milky Way from view. Whereas every steeple and bell-toll once reminded people of a heavenly dimension of existence, we now live in a spiritually barren terrain. With the Jews of old, we can lament, “We do not see our signs” (Ps. 74). Such an environment can have an erosive effect on faith if we are not careful. On a Tuesday afternoon, God can feel like an untethered balloon drifting above our lives, out of touch with the bills that need to be paid and the dinner that needs to be cooked.
Yet, such feelings of detachment from God are only ever an illusion. Just as the stars are there each evening, whether we take time to note them or not, so God is always there – regardless of how we feel about Him. Hudson Taylor captured this point by naming God “the One Great Circumstance”. God’s interest and involvement in our lives is not just during select hours, such as during Sunday worship or Wednesday prayer meeting. Waking or sleeping, worshipping or working, in health or in sickness, God never blinks or loses sight of us. As the Psalmist remarks, He neither slumbers nor sleeps.
There is an implication of such omnipresence for human consciousness. The ideal state of the human mind is for us to have an abiding awareness of the living presence of God. Just as we are constantly aware of our own bodies, of our own thought lives, and of the physical objects around us, at an even deeper level, God should always be there for us even in the moments that the mind is focused.
It is in view of such abiding consciousness of God that the discipline of “practicing the presence” finds it place in our lives. Awareness of God is a habit like any other frame of mind. We can grow more aware of Him or less aware – all depending on our repeated choices. In fact, if we persist in this discipline diligently, it’s not impossible that the line between secular and spiritual activity is altogether erased. We can find ourselves like Brother Lawrence rejoicing in the nearness of God while washing dishes or stacking chairs!
But, how does one do this? It is here that the great Charles Wesley can help us if we meditate on one of his classic hymns. Briefly, I’ll run through it, stanza-by-stanza.
The hymn begins as follows:
Servant of all, to toil for man
Thou didst not, Lord, refuse;
Thy majesty did not disdain
To be employed for us.
So much of life involves menial work. We are scrubbing floors or paying taxes. There is nothing overtly spiritual about such activities. In fact, often such activities can feel all but pointless. Yet, how amazing that Jesus was willing to “toil” for us! His life was not lived on a glamorous stage; most of it was spent among the wood shavings of a carpenter’s shop.
The hymn goes on:
Son of the carpenter, receive
This humble work of mine;
Worth to my meanest labour give,
By joining it to Thine.
Several things could be said about this verse. What stands out to me is this: the great potential for our “humble work” is that it be grafted to the temple that Jesus is building. It’s incredible to think that sitting with a friend in a waiting room or listening patiently to the complaints of a neighbour could have abiding value – even eternal value. But such is the artistry of Christ. He can take the nuts and bolts of our insignificant doings and fasten them onto the great beams that support the house of the living God.
The next stanza:
End of my every action Thou,
In all things Thee I see;
Accept my hallowed labour now,
I do it unto Thee.
Here we touch upon the secret of practicing the presence of God. There is an alchemy by which any human action can become gold. It happens whenever we follow the recipe of acting in the name of Jesus for the glory of Jesus. When such intent is mixed into a conversation, even a spreadsheet, the end result is precious. The secular becomes holy; toil becomes liturgy.
And next:
Thy bright example I pursue,
To Thee in all things rise;
And all I think or speak or do
Is one great sacrifice.
Such is the potential of the Christian life – not just to be ceaselessly aware of God, but ceaselessly to be in the service of God. Nothing needs to be left out of the box of worship. It’s possible for each minute of our lives to be a pleasing aroma to God. Anyone looking for more purpose in life ought to contemplate this. There is a way to eat a bowl of cornflakes to the glory of God. Mix in some gratitude with the milk and the result is priestly incense.
To end:
Careless through outward cares I go,
From all distraction free;
My hands are but engaged below,
My heart is still with Thee.
In this stanza we have a window into the heart of Jesus before the Father. Jesus’ communion was as clear and unbroken as sunlight on a cloudless day. In the carpenter shop, on the road, or in a boat with friends, Jesus basked in the presence of God. He and the Father were one.
Is such communion possible for us? Not perfectly, but increasingly. The more we practice the presence of God in ordinary life, the more we will be able to say with sincerity to our heavenly Father, “My hands are but engaged below,/My heart is still with Thee.”
