The Presence of God

I am rethinking what it means to experience the “presence” of God. I used to think it meant some kind of warm fuzzy feeling, a tingling in my insides. I have experienced this kind of thing many times over the years. It happens most often when I am in a worship service and the words and music of a praise song really move me. I also feel this way sometimes when I am listening to praise and worship music by myself. I have felt it less often when a speaker says something about God or the Bible that is so right it makes me shiver almost. That feeling is what I have thought of as the presence of God.

I haven’t been feeling the presence of God in that way lately. I did get a little juiced the other day when I played some Hillsong worship music in my earbuds, but that’s about it. We are in the middle of the COVID shutdown as I write this, so I haven’t had the opportunity to gather with my church for worship. The Facebook live worship we are doing on Sundays during this time doesn’t have the same feel for me. I know worship isn’t about the sound quality or any of that technical stuff, but I find myself missing the live performance features and the corporate fellowship of a normal Sunday.

Something tells me I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do, and it bothers me. I know (intellectually) that our true communion as believers is ultimately spiritual, not merely physical. I said as much in a recent post when I encouraged believers to, “remember that we are “really” together in the Spirit whether we sit in the same room or not. Our fellowship with Christ and each other is spiritually based, not physically based.” I know this. However, it’s one thing to know something as a fact; it’s another thing entirely to know it deep down inside.

I think it’s that deep place where we experience the presence of God. I would say it is our spirit communing with Holy Spirit. When we talk about “feeling” the presence of God, it is possible that we are referring to an emotional state; the emotions are part of our soul, and that is different from our spirit. Certainly, the two relate to each other in some way, but we can all admit that it is possible to have an emotional experience that has nothing whatsoever to do with the spirit. That’s why it struck me when I read Graham Cooke in Crafted Prayer: “Sometimes we make praise a prisoner to our emotions rather than a way of releasing our inner self to God.”

In other words, I don’t necessarily have to feel God’s presence to know He is there. This is similar to how our faith in God’s Word is both intellectually (soul) based and faith (spirit) based. There is abundant evidence, both Biblical and extra-biblical, to prove that a man from Nazareth died at the hands of the Romans in the first century A.D. Millions of people possess that knowledge intellectually (in their souls.) That soul knowledge has no eternal effect until one places faith from that inner part (spirit) in that particular death as the avenue by which one gains access to eternity with God.

I think I need to put that same combination of soul and spirit “knowledge” into the idea of God’s presence. My soul knows Jesus said, “Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there in the midst of them.” He also told His disciples whom He left standing on the mountain as He ascended into Heaven, “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” On the night before he went to the cross, Jesus repeatedly assured the disciples He would not abandon them but would send the Holy Spirit to be with/in them. (John 14-17) I have to add faith (spirit knowledge) that Jesus is doing what He said He would do.

I need to believe God is present whether I feel something or don’t. If I rely on my feelings, I am falling prey to a soulish religion that lacks the power to save anyone. My faith can lead to feelings; it is wonderful when it does. I enjoy the feelings. But I must not trust feelings to lead me to faith. My feelings can fool me. My spirit was made new at the new birth, but my soul has to be trained by the Spirit to listen to spirit. I think it was Jesus’ soul that cried out in the Garden of Gethsemane pleading for another way than the cross He faced. Then His spirit connected to reality and He could say, “My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.”

The only time Jesus did lose the presence of His Father was during the three hours on the cross when the sins of the whole world were placed on Him. Then His Father had to turn away. Jesus felt the absence in a way no mere human could understand. “My God, my God; why did you abandon me?” Ever since then, the Father and the Son have been united as one, and via the Holy Spirit, we are united in that oneness as well. That’s not something I feel; that’s something I believe. The only distance that exists between me and God is whatever my not-yet-fully-redeemed soul builds there.

I love the Message version of Psalm 89:15-18:

Blessed are the people who know the passwords of praise,
    who shout on parade in the bright presence of God.
Delighted, they dance all day long; they know
    who you are, what you do—they can’t keep it quiet!
Your vibrant beauty has gotten inside us—
    you’ve been so good to us! We’re walking on air!
All we are and have we owe to God,
    Holy God of Israel, our King!