Thought for the week: John Myhill requests the Presence

‘You know you are forgiven, yet feel the pain of those you have hurt.’

'We work hard to keep the Presence out because to be present with it is to be “despised and rejected”.’ | Photo: by Jeremy Yap on Unsplash

Finding the Presence in the stillness in a Quaker Meeting is hard but it is not difficult. It does not require years of practice, nor struggle with dark forces. Education, knowledge of theology, complex reasoning and arcane wisdom are even less helpful.

The Presence is more alive within you than the beating of your heart, which, like your breathing, may distract you; yet Jesus has a lively body just like yours. A body that is closer to you than your hands and feet. It takes a huge effort, years of practice and much struggle for you to shut yourself off, especially in the silence. So the slightest movement around you, someone’s cough, a motorbike in the street, is welcomed as a huge relief, rescuing you from the Presence. But, mostly, you will escape simply by trying to shut out all your obsessive thoughts, thus emptying your mind of the everyday concerns through which the Presence is trying to reach you and teach you. If that fails, you may consider that you are already in the Presence and try to adopt high seriousness, deep obeisance – after all, this same Presence made the universe and you are merely dust. Some saints have had that humility but most of us have other gifts, which are equally valuable. The effort at humble worship can be enough to shut it out.

We work so hard to keep the Presence out because to be present with it is to be ‘despised and rejected’. It leads us to be laughed at and humiliated. It is the way to prison, pain and death. Instantly you are aware of all the harm you have caused. You know you are forgiven, yet feel the pain of those you have hurt. The Presence is ‘acquainted with grief’: your grief. After all you are a dear friend, much beloved. Inevitably you want to make up for the past: ‘Please send me, even through the gates of death.’ But the Presence tells you to do something really simple, like telling someone the truth, or forgiving someone who hurt you, or giving away all your money; or facing death with courage. Nothing dramatic, nothing world changing, nothing anyone will ever remember, just some ordinary Christian kindness.

Instead we ‘imagine a vain thing’. We believe we can sort out our lives for ourselves – just look at all the wonders humans have discovered and created. See what we have done for the planet! Surely I can determine my own response to the Presence: ‘I know that my redeemer liveth; but really all I want is a little help to do what I think is best. After all, God doesn’t need my help.’

So we return to the difficult job of shutting the Presence out, determined to be more careful, especially in stillness and silence. But ‘We will all be changed’.

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