Are you really there?

I have two daughters. They’re exactly two years apart in age and while they’re best friends, they couldn’t be more different. You know that test psychologists do where they put kids in a room with a plate of lollies or cake in front of them and tell them not to eat it? One of my girls would sit there and watch it the whole time and not even consider putting a single finger near it. The other would eat it the second the door was shut and spend the rest of the time making up a good story for why she needed to eat it.

Both adorable. Both incredibly loved. Very, very different.

While one of them loves playing by herself and could do so for hours without me even being near her, I’m pretty well certain there’s some kind of invisible magnet between me and the other because wherever I am, she is. She could be playing happily or totally engrossed in a movie, but as soon as I get up and move to another room or to do something else, I can guarantee that within minutes, she’ll lose interest and come to see what I’m doing.

For the most part, I’ve learned to go with it. If I need to get something done, I’ll just set myself up beside her where she’s playing or something. Laptops are pretty great for moving around the house, especially when her movie of choice of a Sunday afternoon is the same one she’s watched no less than twenty times. If not more.

There was one day, though, when I realised just how important my presence was to her. She asked if I’d watch a movie with her (that same one we’d watched heaps of times before) and I agreed – and then went off to grab a book to read while I was snuggling up beside her on the couch. She immediately stopped me. “No, I meant watch the movie with me!”

I suddenly realised that my presence wasn’t enough, even sitting so close beside me that she was practically inside me. She wanted my attention. All of it. Not just to be beside her or holding her but to be actively involved in what she was doing.

I wonder how many times I do the same thing with God.

I go to church or sit and read my Bible but my mind is elsewhere. I’m listening to a sermon while planning what I need to do when I get home or reading my Bible while contemplating what’s happened that day. I’m there, but not completely. God has my presence but not my attention.  

And, like my daughter, he’s no doubt there saying, “No, Hannah, I meant I want you with me. Not just here, but here.”

I know God understands our distractedness. Of course he does. He’s God. And I know there are times when plans and other things will sneak in and take our attention. Stop, write them down and get back to God. Your whole self. Not just the presence bit.

He’s the Creator of the entire universe but more than that, he loves you. He adores you. If that’s not reason enough to give him your entire attention, I don’t know what is.

Wherever you are with God, be there. Wholeheartedly. Your attention, not just your presence.

He yearns for it even more than our kids do.