Presence, Not Programs

A local hospital chaplain told me the story of a young man whom he had built a relationship with in recent days. The chaplain had been asked to visit with this young man’s father on a number of occasions. The father had been diagnosed with a terminal form of cancer in the past year and was slowly losing his battle to this terrible disease. Over the past several months, the chaplain had established a strong relationship with the 20-something son and his ailing dad. They shared uplifting conversations together, weathered deflating doctors’ reports together, and simply journeyed through life together for those difficult months.

After a final series of testing, the doctors told the son that the father’s cancer had unfortunately spread. They didn’t expect for the father to survive much longer. The dad was living out his final moments and the son was given no choice but to come to grips with this imminent loss. Once the chaplain got word of the news, he immediately went to visit the sickly father. As he went, he knew this would likely be his last visit. Upon his arrival into the hospital room, the chaplain found the heartbroken son quietly standing next to his father’s bed. Apparently, the son and father had already exchanged their final words together. As the silence persisted, the chaplain subtly went and stood next to the son’s side. Only after a few more minutes together, the father peacefully passed away with both men at his side.

In the moments immediately following his death, the hospital staff was gracious and kind in allowing the men to continue their time together. In a visible expression of grief, the young son had transitioned away from the bed and was now sitting in the floor with his back leaned up against the nearest wall. He sat there quietly weeping into his hands. Not knowing what else to do, the chaplain decided to follow the son’s lead and he sat down in the floor alongside him. As the medical staff sensitively removed the deceased father from the room, the two men continued to sit in silence. No words were spoken at any point.

Finally, after several minutes of sitting in silence, the son stood to his feet. He reached his hand out to help the chaplain from the floor. He looked gratefully to the chaplain and mustered up an incredibly profound statement. Although no words had been previously exchanged, it perfectly summed up the previous moments.

“Thanks for listening.”

His statement was simple and to the point. It was purposed only to capture the feelings of the occasion, but it resonated far beyond that hospital room. It impacted the chaplain so much that he shared it with me and several others. And now, I have shared it with you. But, that only seems appropriate. This is a message that we all need to hear.

Some of our greatest ministry may not be found in the programs of our church, but rather in our presence in the lives of people. This certainly doesn’t devalue or disqualify the work that God has done or is doing within our church programs. But, we also must not lose sight of all the opportunities for ministry that exist within the everyday lives of people.

This facet of ministry is messy and unpredictable because the lives of people are messy and unpredictable. Too many times we are paralyzed by the fear of not knowing what to say or how to respond in difficult times. Be reminded and encouraged by the story above. It’s not necessary for you to have all the right answers. Sometimes what we do isn’t as important as the fact that we are simply aware and available to do something, even if it is just listening.