The Presence of Christ

Receiving What is Always-Already There

The Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed of 381 CE serves as the basis of all rational theological discussions concerning Orthodox beliefs regarding the person and role of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit in their transcendent relations, as well as their interactions with creation. When considering the power of the presence of Christ—his grace, mercy, and judgment in our lives—the Creed, the Orthodox Symbol of Faith, must also serve as the foundation of such an existential enterprise. Since it is impossible to dictate the particulars of Christ’s interactions with persons possessing life complexities that may even remain dimly lit for them, we must speak in broad categories and apply them to experience the best we can. The Creed will ensure that we stay firmly within the liberating confines of the basic doctrinal outline established by the Church. Exploring how the person of Christ—the incarnate Son of God—shows up in lived experience will introduce a way in which the truth of Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit show up in life in a positive way, allowing people to encounter the divine where they are, not where they need to be.

The Creed and the Nativity of Christ

The Creed begins with the illuminating fact that one God, beginning with the will of the Father, created everything, even the things we cannot see. From revelation and the traditional teaching of it, we understand this as a process whereby the Father creates through the Son by the power of the Holy Spirit. From here, the document describes the divinity of the Son of God, who is “true God of true God,” who became incarnate for our sake by the Holy Spirit, taking upon himself the passible nature of the Virgin Mary, the Theotokos. Within this fact lies the incredible reality of the conception of God—God becoming man—uniting himself to time, space, and other limitations.

The nativity of Christ—the manifestation of God breathing air, touching the ground, tasting the milk of the Virgin’s breasts, seeing the sun, hearing the cries and joys of his family, and smelling the fresh-cut wood familiar to a carpenter’s son—forced an encounter of the world with the divine that was heretofore impossible. The reality of a growing God from child to adult allowed God to come to people unawares. He could connect with them on a personal level, empathize with their struggles, and alleviate their burdens. No longer was God somewhere up there, but he was here and soon to be tangibly everywhere in the power of the Spirit revealed at Pentecost.

The Presence of Christ in the World

St. John the Theologian relates in his Gospel that God came to his creation, and many did not recognize or receive him. The darkness refused the light. Yet, the light still came, and this opened up the possibility of receiving it. Indeed, many also received Christ as the light he was, and for this, St. John says, they became children of God, possessing a divine inheritance. The invitation remains open, the light continues to shine, and we need only receive it. The presence of Christ, then, is something that Christ is, initiates, and is receivable. However, our reception of the Light of the World is far different from what one might think.

Christ began his ministry with the following words: “The time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the gospel” (Mk. 1:15)! Christ was the king of a kingdom come to earth, the immaterial made material, the immutable made mutable. The king voluntarily humiliated himself before all of heaven and earth to save it by serving it. The master said to the slave: “Worry not, and rest in my arms. For as I have created you and your needs, I also meet them for you freely” (cf. Phil. 2:5-8; Matt. 11:28-30). Because of Christ, who brings forth in us “the desire and the effort” to “continue working out [our] salvation,” we exist as vessels of readiness for satisfaction, transformation, and divine presence (Phil. 2:12-13). Such things are our most basic needs for which God promises and provides fulfilment.

The Call for Repentance

To flood our bodies with the presence of Christ, Christ calls us to repentance. Yet, repentance is more than simply confessing sin abstractly, as if we were to go down a list before our father confessor, who serves as a witness to our confession before God. Repentance involves revealing the depths of ourselves to ourselves and God, rather than hiding, protecting, or justifying our thoughts, words, and deeds. King David expresses this many times in his hymns to the Lord.

My sins overwhelm me; like a heavy load, they are too much for me to bear. My wounds are infected and starting to smell, because of my foolish sins. I am dazed and completely humiliated; all day long I walk around mourning. For I am overcome with shame, and my whole body is sick. I am numb with pain and severely battered; I groan loudly because of the anxiety I feel. O Lord, you understand my heart’s desire; my groaning is not hidden from you. My heart beats quickly; my strength leaves me. I can hardly see (Ps. 38:4-10, NET).

David’s feelings are palpable and honest, as if they were open sores seeking a salve that he knew only God could provide. The authenticity of David’s prayer to God lies in being open to God in one’s present condition, avoiding the trap of letting one’s thoughts be consumed by where they think they should be. Repentance is not about pity or even hope. Hope only comes after we are honest with ourselves and God. Only in repentance—in complete authenticity with God—can we ready ourselves to receive his presence into our lives and embody hope.

The sacrament of confession remains a salve to the soul, a medicine for the broken and distant heart, a renewal of the divine-human bonds established by the Incarnation, baptism, and chrismation. The realness of confession may illicit feelings of shame and anxiety, as David experienced. Such feelings can easily convince us to run from the physician or to hide our sins. Instead, let us confess our shame and anxieties openly, knowing that “perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears punishment has not been perfected in love” (1 Jn. 4:18). Not only is fear driven from our souls, but instead of shrinking back from the castisment of God (that which remains most benefitful for our souls), we welcome it. We freely acknowledge our inability to know ourselves fully, and we admit that the things we confess are only the tip of the iceberg. The seed of corruption remains within us, and only in our willingness can God carry us forward in holiness unto perfection (theosis/deification).

Made for Peace through Presence

We possess, as it were, a porous nature, attracted and attractive to sacredness, a complete transformation, and a holiness within the universal king’s court. Perhaps this king, we muse, will accept us as a hired hand, working the outskirts of the holy city, where we expect unending toil for spiritual preservation, considering growth outside the possibility of our fractured, busy, discursive lives. Still, the king calls out to us, runs to us with his entourage lagging. We are welcomed as slaves made sons and daughters with an inheritance beyond comprehension (cf. Lk. 15:11-32). As children of the king, he calls us to care for the kingdom, to take up where he left off. He brought the kingdom to earth, and we bring forth the power of his presence in creation by the grace of the Holy Spirit. We become mediators of transformation and grace upon grace of this great land of his, of our inheritance.

We are undeserving to be called his children and of the sacred labor for which he has empowered us. Sometimes we know this, remaining thankful, awed, and contrite. At other times, the vastness of the king’s territory and the extent of the labor which he calls us to undertake are too much, for surely, without his help, we will fail. Perhaps the task is too good to be true. We are distracted by the shiny things of the world that remain partially veiled, waiting for their redemption through the synergistic work of the king and his children. Desires and aspirations that lie outside the royal court and the king’s purposes for our lives threaten us. We often forget that we were made for the sacred and called to bring forth the holy from within creation.

Nonetheless, the king, the Light of the World, the Christ, the Son of God made man, gently whispers to our fragile minds and disturbed hearts: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you; I do not give it to you as the world does. Do not let your hearts be distressed or lacking in courage” (Jn. 14:27). Peace is often desired, achieved, and protected. However, Christ does not give us his peaceful presence like the world does. His peace, his presence, is not something we achieve, maintain, or protect in our lives. The big lie—always filled with truth and mixed with a slight bit of falsehood—is that we must do something to achieve peace, as if we were not already made porous vessels ready to absorb the omnipresent nature of Christ’s peace.

The world tells us we must demand and claim our peace, and protect it with boundaries designed to elevate the self over others. The fact is that when Christ limited himself to time and space, defeated death by death, was resurrected, and ascended back to the Father, he became peace for all people everywhere and at all times. Reception of his peace is the acceptance of something that is right in front of our faces, as it were. Our minds and hearts are trained by various methods to seek peace, a typical byproduct of divine presence, everywhere beyond where it is most apparent and objectively available. The reception of peace is so easy that it is hard to believe for most. The requirement is simple. Be who you are. Remain in that moment. Change nothing. Stop searching and be found. Ask God to be present in your circumstances as they are now, in your worldliness, your doubts, your struggles, your joys, your pain, your distance, your hopes and fears, your ambitions. Hide nothing. Open everything. Let the Light of the World shine its presence on every article within the house of your soul. Renewal will come. The Spirit will whisper to your soul and bring forth gentle transformation.

This is what it means to be contrite of heart, to open ourselves to God fully, belittling and justifying nothing. We come to the physician of souls and expose our most embarrassing struggles to seek healing amid the merciful justice of God. For in his justice, we are deserving. In his mercy, the standard of justice is met in our willingness to receive from God the presence, peace, and forgiveness we cannot achieve ourselves. And what is peace but to stand in the divine presence, not perfect, but perfected? Not righteous, but made holy. God works in and through us, transforming us into his likeness by grace, allowing us to stand in his presence while he condemns what is within us that hurts us and leads to death, and lifts that which exalts us and leads to life.

Works, Faith, Trust, and Detachment

Holy actions are performed by people made sacred, people set apart for a divine purpose. Virtues cannot exist solely in our efforts. Effort (i.e., works) and grace live in conflict with one another, and Christ is the balancing fulcrum. Christ says, “Apart from me you can accomplish nothing” (Jn. 15:5). St. Paul says, “I am able to do all things through the one [Christ] who strengthens me” (Phil. 4:13). The lived tradition of St. James proclaims: “A person is justified by works and not by faith alone,” further emphasizing that works and faith together strengthen the latter (2:24, cf. 2:22). In hiding nothing from God, receiving him into our porous natures as we are and where we are, we begin to trust him more. As we trust his provision more, we become more detached from the things of this world, understanding that he will never leave us without what is most profitable for our souls. And with this detachment, we experience yet more peace. We come to understand the manifold things outside our control and glorify God in our helplessness. For in recognizing our helplessness, our absolute inability to offer actions to God worthy of our calling as mediators of creation, and the ever small part the self plays in anything divinely worthwhile, we come face to face with an overwhelming peace that manifests the presence of Christ to, within, and around us. We act mindfully and with control, a type of divine control that gives us the sacred ability to think before acting, and to listen before speaking, to sense the needs and pains of others, and to offer help as we can. We let go of the things we cannot control, and mindfully work with the things we can control with faith, trust, and a divinely-provided detachment. As St. Seraphim of Sarov said, “Acquire the Spirit of Peace and a thousand souls around you will be saved.”

The Orthodox Church traditionally interprets Revelation primarily as a Eucharistic celebration instead of a prophetic book. Yes, the eschaton is mentioned many times, but the eschaton—the second coming of Christ—is also now and already present in the assembly of the faithful. The eschaton breaks through as the transformation of this world is actively achieved through the basic work of the faithful in their participation in the Divine Liturgy. It is in liturgy that heaven and earth become one, where past, present, and future faithful servants and saints of God worship with the angels at the feet of the Lord of Hosts. In the Liturgy, God remakes heaven and earth, dwelling with his people and wiping every tear from their eyes (cf. Rev. 21:1-4). The presence of Christ is with his people, and they are his body, the body of believers that make up Christ in the world (cf. 1 Cor 12:27). The presence of Christ fills his people to the brim of their being and commissions them to live salvation and receive health for their souls and bodies, to be made whole.

At the same time, his people, empowered by the Holy Spirit, are to take that same salvation, wholeness, and health to a world reeling from the sickness of sin and all its detrimental effects. The presence of Christ brings healing, condemns evil and the works of the enemy, and invades the world as a conquering king asserting his kingdom, retaking territory, and calling forth his soldiers to manifest the glorious beauty of the created order in harmony with his will. In worship and devotion to God, with contrite, open hearts, let us confidently proclaim the living Prince of Peace to a dark world full of chaos. May we absorb the peace of God into our being and give it to the world freely as we have freely received it. In these actions, we proclaim the kingdom of God to a hurting, searching world, making well the sick, bringing life from death, and stopping the onslaught of the demonic powers within this world (Matt. 10:8). Through the prayers of our holy Fathers and all the saints, Lord, Jesus Christ, our God, have mercy on us and save us!