The simplest prayer we can make.
- Omnipresent /ɑm.nɪ'prɛ.zənt/ adj. Everywhere at once. Ubiquitous.
- [Omnipresence /ɑm.nɪ'prɛ.zəns/ n.]
We Christians believe God is everywhere. Not just that he sees everywhere;
Psalm 139.7-12 KWL
- 7 How can I leave your Spirit? How can I run away from your face?
- 8 You’re there if I climb to the skies, or rest in the grave: Look, it’s you!
- 9 I wear the dawn’s wings. I pitch a tent on the far side of the sea—
- 10 yet even there your hand guides me. Your right hand holds me.
- 11 I can say, “Yes, darkness surrounds me; night is ‘light’ around me”—
- 12 yet even darkness isn’t dark to you. Night shines like day. Darkness, light; doesn’t matter.
However. Though we believe this, we Christians sometimes talk about God’s presence as not always being here. Sometimes it’s here. Sometimes not.
We make it sound a lot like God’s some semi-senile grandpa sitting in the corner, whose mind is almost always elsewhere. Though on some conscious level, he sorta knows stuff is going on in the room. And once we call upon him—“Hey grandpa!”—he snaps out of his reverie and interacts with us. But unlike this grandpa, God’s actually up to something in those other places. That’s why his mind is focused on that, and not so much this. He keeps a toe in our pool, just in case we need to call upon him again. When we do, here he is.
Is this really how God works? Not even close.
The Hebrew word we tend to translate as “presence” is panéh/“face,” as in “the L
God’s presence is everywhere. That’s literally what omnipresence means. But we humans can’t wrap our brains around the idea. You know how when you hear a voice and can’t see it, you look around till you know where that voice is coming from—and which direction to face? Psychologically, we need a direction to face. We need a focal point we can interact with. If we don’t have one, our mind will invent one for us. God’s gotta be in some direction, relative to our location. Up, down, in front of us, behind us, in the direction of Jerusalem, wherever. We need to know where his face is… so we can face him.
But he’s everywhere.
Where do you imagine his presence is?
Still, this brings up an interesting question. Where, physically, do you imagine God to be? You picture him somewhere in three-dimensional space. Where? And why?
- Many Christians picture God somewhere in outer space. While we may bow our heads downward to pray, we nonetheless point our thoughts upwards—towards that space in the cosmos where we picture God.
- Many picture him nearer. Like in one of the clouds over town. Or hovering over the building. Or in the upper corner of the room we’re in.
- Some of us were taught in Sunday school that we bow our heads to pray “because Jesus lives in your heart—so you’re praying towards him.” A wacky idea. But even so, there are a number of adults who really do imagine Jesus in their chests somewhere.
- Some of us were taught, “God is as close as the nose on your face.” Which is true. So they cross their eyes somewhat, trying to picture him shoving his loving face into theirs, like a daddy does with his baby.
- And some of us were taught we shouldn’t try to picture God in any one location, lest we create some mental image which represents him—a mental idol, so to speak, and idolatry’s wrong.
Ex 20.4So whenever our minds wander towards one of those ideas—God astride our city, God seated in some giant Lincoln-Memorial-sized throne in heaven, God seated across from us at the table—we try to banish that thought, and focus on a cosmic everywhere-being who can’t be pinned down by tiny finite human minds.
Here’s the catch. Yeah, he’s everywhere. But if we try too hard to picture him everywhere, we can easily slide into one of two wrong ideas:
- We imagine the entire universe. We imagine, not just that God fills the entire universe… but that he kinda is the whole universe. He’s not just everywhere, but every-thing. In other words,
- We imagine God nowhere in the universe. Because he’s too big, or because he’s not physical, or because he’s not finite; for whatever reason he’s everywhere-but-nowhere. Which has a bad tendency to turn him into nowhere. Not there. Nontheism.
I’m not saying our imaginations will turn us pantheist or nontheist. It’s just we’ll unconsciously lean those directions when we talk about God.
Same as those Christians who imagine God in outer space… unconsciously lean towards the idea of a distant God. Or the Christians who imagine God in the corner of our ceiling… unconsciously lean towards the idea of God as a drone who watches but doesn’t interact. Or the Christians who imagine God as towering over us all, or exalted over us all… missing the idea that God deliberately came near in order to bridge these imaginary gaps.
If our image of God makes him distant, our image of God is wrong.
He’s not out there. He’s right here. He’s not looking down upon us, plotting how to squash us; he’s looking directly at us, plotting how he can make us worthy of being called his kids. He’s not disinterested and unattached. He’s very interested, and intimately involved with our lives. Even when we’re not trying to involve him. Even when we’re ignoring he’s around.
So start adjusting that mental picture.
Sacred spaces: Our attempt to mark where God is. Or was.
If you’re familiar with the Led Zeppelin song “Stairway to Heaven,” it’s not actually about this story at all. (Hi there, everybody who found this article by looking up Zeppelin!)
Anyway, Jacob ben Isaac was headed to Haran, and stopped at Luz to sleep. He dreamed of a ladder (
Genesis 28.15-19 KWL
- 15 “Look: I’m with you. I guard you everywhere you go.
- I’ll return you to this ground: I won’t leave you till I do what I told you.”
- 16 Jacob woke from his sleep and said, “I didn’t know the L
ORDwas surely in this place.”
- 17 Afraid, he said, “What fearful place is this? Isn’t this God’s house? Isn’t this heaven’s gate?”
- 18 Jacob rose early in the morning, and took the stone he placed as his mattress.
- He set it up as a monument. He poured oil on top of it.
- 19 Jacob called the place’s name Beit El/“God’s House”
- —though at first the city’s name was Luz.
Notice that God told Jacob he’d be with him wherever he went. Yet Jacob was still fixated on the idea he encountered God at Luz—which he renamed Beit El (
Like most humans, Jacob couldn’t conceptually deal with a God who’s everywhere, in every place, in every time. Our brains kinda need him to be in one place and time. That way we can focus our attention in that direction—and then talk with him and deal with him.
God understands this. It’s why he accommodates us. If we can’t come up with our own focal point so we can give him our undivided attention, he’ll make one for us. Like showing us burning bushes or pillars of cloud; like appearing in angelic or human form. Like making is able to feel he’s in the room. It’s where all our “presence of God” talk comes from.
So God put his presence in the tabernacle and temple,
How much do we psyche ourselves into feeling him?
Nowadays when people talk about experiencing God’s presence, what we really mean is we felt God was in a certain place. “I could really feel his presence in there.” Or “Whoo! Does everybody feel the presence of the Lord this morning?!”
Yeah, I know. Even though God is everywhere, and we already know he’s everywhere. But some of us Christians really do insist on actually feeling his presence. It’s not enough for them to know he’s here. They want an experience to confirm the fact.
A lot of us Christians don’t realize there’s any difference between emotional experiences and spiritual ones. We humans can manufacture emotion, y’know. We can make ourselves feel happy, sad, sorry… or even “spiritual.” When someone says, “Can you feel God’s presence?” it ain’t all that hard to push ourselves into actually feeling “his presence.” Especially when we’d like to imagine ourselves spiritually sensitive.
Problem is, that feeling… is entirely unnecessary. Redundant. ’Cause God is here. Whether we feel him or not, he’s here. We don’t need to feel anything. We only do it because we want to.
No, I’m not saying every Christian who “feels God’s presence” is faking it, or psyching themselves into it. Sometimes God really does want people to feel something. We’ve had a rough week, and if we’re receptive to him, God generously wants to give us some warm fuzzy feelings. Wants to spur a little joy. Hey, if it makes Christians produce the Spirit’s fruit in other ways, ain’t nothing wrong with that. It’s only a problem when Christians don’t produce fruit—and spend all their time chasing “spiritual” euphoria. That activity isn’t of God.
Bigger problem is, skeptics are pretty sure this is all “God’s presence” consists of: Christians ramping ourselves up into self-induced ecstatic states. ’Cause that’s what it looks like. Two Christians might be in the very same room; one of ’em “totally feels God’s presence,” and the next one feels nothing. Not standing close enough to the subwoofer, I suppose.
’Cause in the bible, God’s presence isn’t subjective. When God showed up, everybody noticed it. Not just the God-fearers, nor the prophets. Not everybody would have the very same experience: When Jesus first appeared to Paul, the other folks there heard him but saw nothing,
And yeah, a person’s skepticism will get in the way of admitting a God-sighting is an actual God-sighting. But when you’ve got Christians who earnestly want a God-experience, and wanna know why on earth they’re not having that experience while everyone else is falling down on the ground, we’d better have a better answer for them than the usual lame-ass, “God doesn’t think you’re ready for it,” or “Be more open to him.” (I should add neither of these answers are biblical. God gets us ready for him.)
Practicing God’s presence.
Probably one of the better Christian prayer practices is what we call “the practice of the presence of God”: We try to remain constantly aware God is here.
Constantly consciously aware. That means we don’t just remember, “Oh yeah, God is here.” We’re alert to the fact he’s here. We stay alert to the fact he’s here. All the time. From the instant we wake up to the instant we fall asleep.
Really not easy to do at first. ’Cause God’s invisible. And you can’t just set up little visual reminders that he’s present, like Jesus statues or crucifixes or little notes, “Remember, God’s watching!” (Which can sound a little creepy if we imagine God passively watching, instead of actively interacting.) It’s not hard to turn one’s back on that Jesus painting on the wall, get distracted by something else we’re working on, and lose that alertness. And then look up hours later, remember we were trying to practice God’s presence, and kick ourselves a little for losing our train of thought.
Relax; it gets easier.
The up side of practicing God’s presence? We talk with him way more often. ’Cause it’s just rude to be in the same room with someone whom you never talk to! When we’re alert to the fact God’s here, it’s way different from remembering, “Oh yeah; I gotta pray sometime today.” Or “Oh yeah; I gotta remember to bring that up next time I have prayer time.” Or “I’ll meditate on that later.” You know how some Christians literally try to pray without ceasing.
Oh, and we sin less. It’s a little harder to sin with God in the room. Not that he wasn’t already in the room, but we were imagining he wasn’t… and now we aren’t. Reality kicked in.
Yes, we also feel his presence more often. He feels less distant. It feels easier to recognize when he’s been active in our lives, and in the lives of other Christians. But bear in mind: These feelings are because of our new constantly-aware-of-God mindset. Not because God actually is easier to feel, easier to recognize, or less distant. In fact some immature Christians—assuming whenever they feel God’s presence any less, he’s trying to communicate with them or steer them—are actually steering themselves, and steering themselves wrong. Our feelings aren’t meant to be our guide—nor our god. You think you heard from God? You prove it properly.
Yeah, there’s a book on it. Give it a read.