The Ministry of Presence

Byron Wicker
Byron Wicker
August 28, 2025
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“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.”
-Romans 12:15 (NIV)

Dear People Who Keep Company with God,

God didn’t call us to run from people’s pain; He called us to move toward it. That’s something I’ve come to understand more clearly the longer I’ve served in God’s Kingdom. Being there for others isn’t about offering quick fixes or standing at a safe distance to give advice. It’s about presence. It’s about showing up when it’s hard, and sitting in the tension, grief, and long nights when no one has the answers. And this isn’t just for people in vocational ministry. It’s for anyone who loves like Jesus: friends, parents, neighbors, for all of us who find ourselves walking alongside someone who is hurting. 

Over the years, I’ve started to think of ministry as being like being a sergeant in the army. He’s not giving orders from a safe place; he’s in the trenches with his people. Same dirt. Same danger. Same exhaustion. He doesn’t pretend to be immune to fear or pain. He chooses to stay close and keep going. That’s what it looks like to love people through their pain: you don’t back away, you lean in. You don’t have to fix it; you have to be willing to show up.

God invites us into the sorrow of others, not because we have the answers, but because His presence is needed there, and often He shows up through us. As a friend, it might look like sitting quietly with someone who’s grieving. As a parent, it might mean holding space for a child wrestling with fear or failure. As a neighbor, it could mean offering a simple meal or a listening ear. You’re not solving everything; you’re simply holding their pain with love and trusting God to work in the unseen.

Romans 12:15 isn’t just good advice—it’s a way of life. “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.” This means entering someone else’s story with authenticity. Sometimes that looks like a shared tear, a silent prayer, or just staying on the line during a hard phone call. You don’t need perfect words, just a heart that’s willing to be present.

And by God’s grace, you might witness healing: a burden lifted, a heart softened, a flicker of hope returning. But even when the breakthrough doesn’t come right away, your purpose remains the same: be available, love genuinely, and trust that your presence matters. It is not easy. Loving like this costs something. It stretches us. It requires a strength that doesn’t come from us. And it still places us on holy ground.

Jesus, our Shepherd, didn’t avoid our pain. He entered it fully. He carried it, redeemed it, and made a way through it. Whether you’re comforting a friend late at night, praying over your child, or bringing a warm meal to someone in a hard season, remember this: you’re not alone. Your presence, anchored in Christ, carries His light into some of the darkest places. You don’t have to be strong. You need to show up. God’s love and power will do the rest.

Many Blessings, BW

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