being

We are justified, we are saved, by faith and not by works.  

But even before that, we were loved.  While we were still sinners, Jesus died for us.  I was loved before that week of camp one summer when I heard the Gospel.  You were deeply adored before your own birth.  That CEO and that addict and that preacher and that girl next door were all driving a King crazy with His love for them even before time began.  

Before we did anything, we were loved.  Before we willingly asked for Him, He wanted us.  We may be saved by faith, but we are loved without sense.  Not by works, but by our mere existence, the Creator radically adores us.

I've known in my head for awhile that life with God is about abiding in Him, about simply being in His presence.  This summer, my heart finally really learned that.  It's so easy for us to say that our works are what show our faith; and in many cases, they are.  But what if one day, you couldn't "do" anything?  What then?  Would you be content with not being able to do?  Could you be content to just be?  To just exist in His presence?  Could I?  

 

In Africa, we didn't have to do.  The Africans valued our presence.  They valued us being there with them.  They valued time.  Our questions of "Well, what can we do?" stood out and even felt wrong.  They wanted our presence more than our plans, our being more than our actions.

So I look at a man sitting on the side of the road, or I see a child with a grin on their face, or an older woman whose laugh lines and weathered skin speak of deep wells of experience - and I want to tell their story. 

But others look at them and don't see the story as worth hearing.  "Why?" they ask impatiently.  "But what have they done?"

I don't care what they've done, I say.  They just are.  They exist.

Why is that not enough?