God Misplaced: Setting "Before" and Setting "Aside"

I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken (Psalm 16:8).

“Hey, we’ve still got your drums in the basement. Do you want them?”

I’ve heard that more than once. My parents gave me that set of Ludwigs for Christmas when I was a sophomore in high school (think 1978 . . . ouch!). For years I used them often, kept them set up in our basement, “jammed” with a guitarist friend of mine, played at church and picked up other random gigs from time to time throughout my college years.

And then I stopped. I’ve barely touched my drums since the mid-80s. There was no room for them in my Fort Worth apartment once I started seminary. And over time, it seems there was just no room for them in my life. I pause to ponder that. It didn’t have to be that way. No one pointed a gun at me and said “step away from drums.” I just did.

I set them aside.

Back in the day I was always setting the drums before me. Literally. I loved to be behnd the kit, I loved to watch and listen to other drummers and bands, I browsed music stores pricing hardware and cymbals and all things percussive. I didn’t need a pair of sticks in my hands. Drumming was woven into my sense of identity, embedded somehow in whatever it is we speak of when we describe the “self.”

So the drums are in my parents’ basement, dormant and dusty in their cases. Do I want them? Yes, but not in my own house. My basement is crammed with various household items and all those toys my kids stopped paying attention to years ago. But I don’t want to sell the drums and I don’t want to give them away. They’re mine . . . just set aside.

Yesterday I read a line from Psalm 16 in which the Psalmist states “I have set the Lord always before me.” The Psalmist is using different words to describe the practice of the presence of God. To “set the Lord always before me” is to practice God’s presence.

What I seem more inclined to do is to set the Lord aside. This isn’t a rejection of beliefs or a renunciation of the faith. Maybe you could call it a rhythm of carelessness.

The day begins. I read the assigned scripture, thinking through the day, offering it up to the Lord of all time. And then I enter that day, but somewhere along the way God is set aside. Present, yes – but in an “over there” kind of way.

So what does it mean to “set the Lord continually before me?”

Whatever it means, it has to be something far deeper than doing the daily God things, good as those things are. If God is confined to the moments of morning prayer, we’ve got a problem because few of us can linger in those moments for very long. We have employers who expect us to show up and children who need to get to school or lacrosse camp. We have emails to answer and phone calls to return. Life confronts us with such varied and wonderful demands.

I like what I’ve heard somewhere from someone, probably many times. We don’t take God to those places. God is already there, right in the middle of all of it. Our task is to look, to think, to pay attention: To set the Lord always before us.

That’s not an easy thing to do, but if we’ll practice it and learn to do it, the benefits are amazing: joy, gladness, security, confidence (Ps. 16:9). Not a bad way to live.

I'm Out of Practice

About three weeks ago I began gathering on Sunday mornings with anyone who cared to join me to work through The Practice of the Presence of God. This little book, authored or told by a Carmelite monk known to us as Brother Lawrence, has been around since the late 1600s. I ordered a particular edition for participants to purchase, but apparently I’m not introducing something new to these folks. Many of them have shown up with their own copies, varied editions and translations of the original French.

It’s a modest gathering. Maybe twenty people, hardly a crowd. But what we lack in size is more than made up for when it comes to the level of interest in what it means to live daily in God’s presence. To be honest, our interest is often matched by our confusion. We want to live in God’s presence, but we’re not sure how to do it, and we’re not sure a Carmelite monk can help us much given our hurried, overscheduled, urbanized way of life.

But maybe it’s that very way of living that accounts for our curiosity. Likewise, that desire to understand (dare I say hunger to know) God’s presence probably accounts for the staying power of this little book. The writing doesn’t strike me as particularly artful. The author lived an obscure existence; were it not for this one title none of us would have ever heard of Brother Lawrence.

But the book’s substance, the matter being addressed by this cloistered kitchen-hand, this is what seems to have engaged the hearts and minds of people for more than three centuries.

I offer that as part opinion, part theory, but mostly as confession. I’m drawn back to this little book because I’m not satisfied with my own experience of the presence of God.

The very title of the book exposes my lack. Practice suggests something undertaken with intent and with repeated regularity. That’s not me. There are plenty of aspects of the life of faith that I do practice. I practice the disciplines of Bible reading and prayer almost daily. I practice corporate worship . . . never mind that I get paid to do that. I practice certain virtues but not very well. There’s no lack of practice and discipline in my life with Jesus. I just never actually practice his presence. I don’t work at keeping company with Christ.

When it comes to the presence of God in my life I’ve largely been a passive recipient, perfectly ready for God to show up and be present whenever he chooses to do so. I can’t say strongly enough that I’ve never had a problem believing in God’s presence. God has promised to be present, and so I accept God’s presence as a basic tenet of faith.

But my convictions here are vague. I affirm God’s presence, God's with-ness, in general terms based on the promises God has made. “I will fear no evil for thou art with me.”

That’s all well and good until something happens, something is reported in the news, something goes wrong and I realize that I really do fear evil. I can sense my anxiety plugging my throat, picking at my thoughts, chasing my pulse and forcing my heart to beat faster. I know this is happening and it seems as if I really don’t believe “thou art with me.” I affirm God's presence as a theological premise. I'm just not so sure God is here in this place and this moment.

So I want to learn how to practice what God has promised. I want to discover what I need to do, over and over, day by day, to enter into the reality of God’s presence with me. I want to get to a place where I can walk boldly through the valley of the shadow of death because of the Presence. From time to time I’ll be sharing stories about how it’s going. If you happen to stop by, I’d love to hear yours.