by 
As I’ve shared with you several times, I believe the ministry of presence is one of the sweetest but most powerful gifts we can share with each other in the Body of Christ. A ministry of presence is simply “being there”—walking with each other through the twists and turns, the valleys and pits of life. The old spiritual may say that we each have to walk “this lonesome valley” by ourselves, but I really don’t believe that. Accompanying each other, bearing one another’s burdens, being there for each other is simply what Christians do.
My father-in-law Duane Churchman, who passed away on December 19, understood what it meant to offer a ministry of presence. He entered the ministry in the United Methodist Church as a young man and served the church faithfully for fifty-five years. Whenever there was a need, Duane was there. Whether offering counseling in his office, praying before surgeries, waiting through surgeries, helping through grief, or any number of other pastoral needs, Duane was there. You could count on him to be at your side no matter what. Indeed, he embodied the presence of Christ for his flock and his family.
One of the things I appreciated most about the Churchman family when I joined it seventeen years ago is that they are always there for each other. They all participate in every family event; they all come together for every family emergency. Don’t get me wrong. My family is loving and supportive. We enjoy each other’s company, and we care about the goings-on in each other’s lives. But in my family, the attitude is more like “if you can be there, great; if not, that’s OK too.” We’re a little nonchalant about it all. Maybe too nonchalant. It is different with the Churchmans; for them (us), you are there no matter what. It’s just what you do. They learned that from Duane.
In Duane’s last days, he stayed at Taylor House, a hospice facility in Des Moines. The day before he died, a group of carolers came. As they sang “The First Noel,” Duane tried to sing along. Nobody knew at the time that this would be one of his last moments of lucidity. His words were unintelligible. His pitch was a little off. But there was no mistaking his intent: Duane was singing. It was a heart-warming, uplifting moment in an otherwise exhausting and very challenging week. And it came about because a handful of young adults decided to give a few minutes of their time this holiday season. They shared the ministry of presence, and it made a difference.
Your ministry of presence made a difference to me too. With Lindsay gone, I wasn’t sure how I would be able to do everything that needed to be done last week. There were many days and evenings when I needed to be in two places at once. Impossible. I was so overwhelmed that I just sat at my desk Monday morning in a short-circuited stupor. Then Jami Hemmenway stopped by. “Whatever you need, I’m here. I know there would be lots of other people to help too.”
At first I did the old “smile and nod.” “Thank you Jami. I appreciate it,” I said, all the while planning to manage on my own. But there was no managing that schedule alone. After she left my office, there was no denying it: I needed help. And help came. Joan Herron, Minta Colburn, Audrey Krogmeier, Rose Halpin, Amber Harmon, Robin Robinson, and Jami Hemmenway all came to my rescue—taking Rachel to dance, helping with Rachel’s birthday party, and filling in for me at the youth luncheon preparation day. It was amazing, wonderful, humbling. It was the ministry of presence.
It doesn’t take much to be the presence of Christ for one another. Just time, and a willingness to be there. There is no better Christmas gift than that.
