The Mercy Seat and The Ministry of Presence

Increasingly, the more people I talk to, the more people are struggling with big battles in their lives. How many times do we hear of a friend or loved one’s difficult situation and not know how to respond?

A lot of people don’t want to hear about any more pain or any more strife, so they respond by minimizing the difficulty you’re facing. Some people downright avoid you if you’re struggling. Others want to cast blame, and sometimes they point the finger right at you in the thick of your own heartache. And others are quick to give snap judgement orders of what you should do next. When you’re in a position of weariness and helplessness, which response ministers to you the most? If you’re like me, the answer is a firm “none of the above.” So what strengthens us to carry on when we’re weary and worn out?

I recently heard a story about a 78-year-old woman who decided to start volunteering at the local hospital. She ended up noticing a young teen who sat in the waiting room. She sat next to him for about ten minutes before she passed him a plate of cookies. She found him often in the waiting room when she came to volunteer. They didn’t ever talk much. Just a quiet presence. He knew he wasn’t alone. She didn’t worry about awkward silence. She just sat with him.

It takes a merciful and quiet patience to minister to someone in the silence like that. We wonder if our presence is enough. So many want to fix the situation with giving instructions or passing judgments or minimizing the pain. But I’ve never seen a grieving person respond well to any of that. I have, however, seen a grieving person respond well to presence. The quiet assurance that they aren’t alone. The physical reminder that they’re not overlooked.

When we grieve loss, when we face trials, when years of battling difficulty has mapped wrinkles on our faces… these are times when God too gets quiet. He offers the ministry of His presence. He patiently refrains from a bunch of words or orders or correction. He enters into the pain with us and holds us there. And His grace is enough.

I’ve recently been navigating trials of my own, reaching out to a handful of those older and wiser than me for guidance. Some are battling for me in the prayer closet, which is doing more than I know to pave a way for us. Some are assuring me that it’s going to be ok, and I chose to walk in peace and believe them. And one woman, she just listened to my heartache and the concerns of my heart, and responded with, “Oh Danita.” Across thousands of miles of phone lines, I could hear the tears in her voice as she said my name. I could hear the mercy of God in her, aching for me in this situation. Her humility to join me in the pain ministered so deeply to me.

Sometimes, getting low enough with someone in their pit is all they need to find strength to keep taking baby steps out of it.

The older woman changed things for the teenager who sat in the waiting room. The boy called it “the quiet chair time.” He ended up starting a group at the school cafeteria where they just sit with anyone looking lonely. No talking. Just the ministry of presence.

When we’re battle-tossed and weary, we all need some “quiet chair time.” Someone to just show us mercy. Like those powerful tears and the “Oh, Danita” from my friend. “Quiet chair time” makes me think of one of the names of where God sits near His children too. It’s called the mercy seat. In Exodus 25, we read about the Ark of the Covenant.

“I will meet with you there above the mercy seat, between the two cherubim that are over the ark of the testimony; I will speak with you from there about all that I command you regarding the Israelites.”

Exodus 25:22, CSB

God’s promises and His protecting commands rest under the mercy seat. The mercy seat is covered by the wings of two angels, and God promises to meet us there. Wow. What a powerful image! When we seek the quiet time chair, the mercy seat of God, we find ourselves covered by angel wings, secured by His guiding commands, and in the ministry of His presence.

When we need compassion, renewed strength, and mercy, that’s where we need to turn. For some quiet chair sitting time at the mercy seat.