I once lived in a foreign city where I loved to get lost, using blocks of free time to explore alone. When I got tired, or aware of the hour, I’d search or ask someone for directions to the closest subway station. It was my safety net; the subway was always an easy way to navigate home.
Included here is a limited account of my worst walk to the subway and what I’m learning about God’s limitless presence.
Joe: Well, what should we do next? Should we make a little schedule?
Ann: No, not that word, please!
Joe: Oh, I didn’t mean a work sched– school schedule, I meant a, a fun schedule.
Ann: Oh yes! Let’s just go, huh?
– “Roman Holiday”
One Friday evening in early April I left my apartment in a rush. I was late to meet friends at a stand-up comedy event in the center of the city. One of my close friends, Jeremy, is a comedy lover who wrote a great satirical zine, and I was meant to join his group. I hated to be late, but I was. The venue was about a 40-minute subway ride away. There was an area near my building where illegal taxi drivers hung out and shouted, “Where are you going?” at anyone walking by. There was also a bus stop in front of my building with arrivals at ~15-minute intervals. By bus, the subway station was the very next stop. I tried to make a snap decision, bus or walk to the subway, as the drivers called out in the background… I’d walk.
I loved the pretty walk to the subway station from that apartment. The sidewalk was extra wide and separated from the main road in certain areas by trees. It felt peaceful. That area of the city was not as crowded as the neighborhood I’d lived in when I first moved there. This was nearer the outskirts and there was a semblance of a forest. The walk typically took the 15 minutes it would have taken to wait for the bus, but I couldn’t deal with waiting idly since I was late. I’d soon wish I had. Looking down at my phone, then my iPod, and strutting my speed-walk, I was aware of a car passing me on the sidewalk and stopping some distance ahead. That sort of thing went down constantly in this city, even in this area; one person driving on the sidewalk was hardly considered chaotic. I guess when everything is strange, after a while, nothing seems strange. I texted Jeremy to say I’d be late and then started flipping through my iPod for music, landing on GROUPLOVE for happy vibes! Comedy night! My mood was soaring, and I walked even faster. Soon I’d be laughing with friends.
Being grabbed was not in my realm of happy little expectations, but suddenly some guy was right in front of me, yanking me off my feet. I screamed and tried to hit and kick him while he tried to force me into the back seat of his sidewalk-cruising car. I didn’t see anyone else around, but even if there had been, I couldn’t assume a stranger would automatically intervene to help. So when a small, gentle-seeming man suddenly and quietly appeared on his bicycle, I ignored him. Then I saw fear on my attacker’s face when he saw the man. At least, I thought it was fear. He immediately relented, shoved me to the pavement, bolted into the car and sped away. It was OVER as abruptly as it started, and I was SPARED. I stared at the concrete and a map of the roadway appeared vividly in my mind, almost like a subway map. It was instantly clear how easy it would be for him to circle back for me. I grabbed my stuff, my shoes and sprinted barefoot the rest of the way to my safety net – underground and out of sight – the subway station.
I don’t understand what occurred in my attacker’s mind, but I associate the man on the bicycle with my release, and for him I’m beyond thankful. God used him for my rescue somehow. I let myself wonder if he was an angel since I’d read about experiences with angels, but I felt unsure and inclined to talk myself out of it. Not that divine intervention is something anyone can possibly “deserve,” but I especially didn’t feel deserving. Still, maybe I registered a gentle, unassuming man while the attacker encountered an unfriendly dragon. Otherwise, was he really that easily frightened off by one random guy? Did I mistake the fear? Did some sort of reverse bat signal summoning all bad guys appear in the sky and he just needed to bounce? Maybe he was only dabbling in assault or abduction, maybe just starting out. My struggle may have annoyed him, but I know he wasn’t afraid of me. Maybe the man on the bicycle was really a highly feared mob boss, and my attacker was in his territory. Did I see him ride away on his bicycle? Did he linger first to watch me? I dreamed about it in the months that followed.
Jeremy’s not a big hugger, but he was the first one to hug me that night. When I called him from the station to recount what happened, he answered with our inside joke greeting. I felt the wrong kind of hysterical, and my hands shook so badly that I was barely able to hold my phone. He seriously but calmly told me to get on the next train ASAP; he was leaving the club and would be waiting at the station on the other end.
When another friend and I took the local police back to the spot the next day, we realized there was a surveillance camera that seemed possibly well-situated to capture the incident. At first, I was full of childish hope as we pointed it out to the officers, who acknowledged its existence in order to satisfy us. When I asked the embassy contact about potential footage, I was advised not to press the police about it any further. The same advice was repeated to my friend who continued requesting updates from authorities even after I shut down – after I hurriedly moved apartments, overhauled my patterns of life there, confirmed my wellness half a dozen times and attempted to will the ordeal (the miracle, really) to just fade away – that friend still followed up faithfully, keeping my report fresh in their minds. It may sound strange, but I initially wanted to watch that surveillance footage myself. Beyond the investigation, just personally, I wanted to see the man on the bicycle again. I wanted to keep my eyes locked on him. I hoped for that chance, assuming that would resolve all my questions about him. It never happened.
My wonderful friend Ellen recently recommended a book to me called The Gift of Being Yourself by David G. Benner. Benner describes meditation on Jesus as sharing an experience with Jesus like you would with a friend, inviting the reader to read Mark 10:17-22. Then he describes an imaginative experience, saying on page 38,
“Then, as if you were a spectator, observe the events as they unfold. Watch, listen and stay attentive to Christ. Don’t be distracted by the rich young ruler. And don’t try to analyze the story or learn lessons from it. Just be present to Jesus and open to your own reactions.”
He describes this as a way to personally know Jesus rather than just knowing information about Him. He says on page 39,
“What God wants is simply our presence, even if it feels like a waste of potentially productive time. That is what friends do. They waste time together.”
This description of watching the events of Jesus’ life unfold in the mind’s eye reminded me of my urge, many years ago now, to watch footage of my own brush with destruction in order to focus on the man on the bicycle. The notion that God simply wants our presence reminded me that I am still a person who relishes a chance to explore without a schedule. A walk alone was a favorite coping strategy which instantly became an instrument of exposure, a way to feel followed, watched, fragile and generally insane. Now, presence with myself like I used to enjoy on long walks has been graciously restored, and in ways improved upon. I’ll never lose touch with my vulnerability to danger, but that’s not all bad as it keeps me dependent on God. Peace is possible again because my path is not hidden from Him. I’m full of thankfulness, and I’m awake to a contented and delighted presence with Him. Now I can “watch footage” of Jesus’ moments on earth, focusing on Him. There’s no sense in focusing so much on my losing fights, or my unworthiness of miracles compared to others, if it means I miss the gentle, unassuming Jesus whose presence, to me, can feel like the safety and cover and direction of a subway station. Benner says, on page 103,
“God is always present and your presence – even when you are not thinking of anything, including God – is presence to Divine Presence.”
The idea that without any effort on my part to be present with God specifically, or to direct any thoughts or energy toward God, I am already present to Him, contradicts any effort-based spirituality which filled me with shame. To have God’s presence without even thinking about Him seems to benefit only one party – me – so how can that be right? If God wants my presence, though, then He is apparently getting something He wants, and that thing He wants is benefitting me. Because of Jesus, the living God who is the master of productivity and creativity and the universe, and whose standards I’ll never reach, still wants my presence and gives me His, EVEN when my thoughts are NOT focused on Him. He seeks out all of us before we care about Him. And whenever my solitude feels abruptly wielded against me, I know regardless of the pain that I’m not actually alone or hidden from Him. For His own reasons and for His glory, He is responsible for my unlikely rescue.
Psalm 139
7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
Thanks for writing and sharing this, M. I'm sure there's even more layers and stories here as well that will come with time. HUG!
Thank you for this reminder to focus on Jesus, especially in the aftermath of harrowing experiences.