God’s Omnipresence vs. Manifest Presence

A truism of life is that no matter how old you are, there’s always something new to learn – or unlearn. Regardless how advanced we are in terms of age, we’ll never get to be a know-it-all. Especially from a spiritual perspective.

 

One important aspect of Christian theology, even for us non-professional “laypeople,” is learning about the attributes of God. There are many from which to choose, but among them are the “omnis,” which include His omniscience (being all-knowing), omnipotence (being all-powerful), and omnipresence (being present everywhere).

 

I find the omnipresence of the Lord particularly intriguing. It kind of reminds me of the lines from “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” – “he knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you’re awake, he knows if you’ve been bad or good….” Except in God’s case, it’s not a lilting Christmas ditty. It’s true because He is everywhere. 

 

King David wrote in one of his most familiar psalms, “You know when I sit down and when I rise; You perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; You are familiar with all my ways…. Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence?” (Psalm 139:2-3,7). David concluded regardless of whether he went to the heavens or the depths, was in darkness or light, God would be there.

 

This can be very comforting, knowing we can’t go anywhere or find ourselves in any circumstances without God being near. But it seems to me this also raises a question. Speaking to His disciples, Jesus Christ said, “For where two or three have gathered together in My name, I am there in their midst” (Matthew 18:20). If we know God is omnipresent, why did Jesus need to say this?

 

While pondering this question, I recently heard a pastor make a notable distinction between God’s omnipresence and His “manifest presence.”

 

As I understand this, it means that when believers assemble together – such as in a small group, at a Christian conference, or in a worship service – our omnipresent Lord manifests His presence in a special way. Especially through our prayers and praise. For instance, one translation of Psalm 22:3 states, “But You are holy, You who inhabit the praises of Israel.” 

 

Interesting, isn’t it? God “inhabits” the praise of His people, meaning He’s actively present in our worship and praise. An everyday analogy – limited as it is – might be helpful here. Consider a mother who’s in the home, available at a moment’s notice for her child. But the child is busy, oblivious to mom’s presence. Until a little crisis occurs and then, “Mommy!” Instantly the mother is there, ready to help in whatever way is necessary. She’s already present, but when needed her presence is ‘manifested.’

 

Here’s why the distinction struck me: For much of my life as a follower of Christ, I’ve regarded the music portion of a worship service kind of like a pregame warmup, or perhaps the appetizer before the main course. As a music lover I’d enjoy the songs – some more than others – but was really anticipating the “meat” of the service, what the pastor would be teaching through his sermon.

 

However, discovering the reality of God inhabiting the praises of His people has given me a fresh perspective on the musical aspect of worship. The New Living Translation of Psalm 22:3 offers an intriguing image: “Yet You are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel.” Almost like having our praises create a throne on which the King of Kings rests. He’s metaphorically seated or dwelling in the praises offered by His people – Israel in biblical times, His Church today. 

 

Looking into this a bit further, I found a couple useful observations online. On biblestudytools.com, Britt Mooney wrote about God inhabiting our praises, “It transcends the notion of a distant, aloof deity. It paints a picture of a God intimately involved with His creation, responding to His people’s authentic expressions of adoration.” 

 

And on Christianity.com, Jessica Brodie observed, “Praising God means telling or otherwise expressing how wonderful and great we believe God is and how much we love Him.”

 

How do we get the notion of God “inhabiting” our praises from Psalm 22:3? The original Hebrew uses a combination of the adjective “qadosh,” meaning holy or sacred, according to Strong’s Concordance, and the verb “yashab,” which means to sit, remain, or dwell. The holy God sitting or dwelling with us.

 

This doesn’t mean God is present only when people sing praises about Him. Being omnipresent, He’s not confined to one place. And of course, many worship services are happening at the same time. But He’s glorified and we can experience His manifest presence when His people gather to honor His name. When we praise Him, He draws nearer to us.

 

The Scriptures are filled with words of praise for God who, as the giver of every good gift and sustainer of everything that is, is the only One truly worthy of our praise. As the lyrics from the time-honored Doxology remind us, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow….”

 

When we do what Psalm 100 encourages, to “Shout for joy to the Lord all the earth” (or in my case, “Make a joyful noise…,” in the King James Version), we’re inviting Him to manifest His presence with us. As the psalm goes on, “Worship the Lord with gladness; come before Him with joyful songs. Know that the Lord is God. It is He who made us, and we are His; we are His people, the sheep of His pasture…” (Psalm 100:2-3).

 

Many other psalms offer similar sentiments. But it’s important to remember that while our omnipresent God is always with us, when we praise Him and in effect shout “Abba Father!” He eagerly responds, “I’m right here!” 

God Isn’t Distant or Indifferent – He’s Immanuel

Over the years many people have labored to express their perceptions about God. One common view is that even if He did set the entire universe in motion, He’s now like an absentee landlord. That God is far-removed in the distant cosmos, either totally disinterested in what’s happening on earth or passively observing without any desire for getting directly involved.

 

That perception – or misconception, because that’s what it is – finds no support in the Bible, the Word of God. In one of the numerous Old Testament prophecies of the coming Messiah, we’re told, “Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call Him Immanuel” (Isaiah 7:14). The meaning of this is clarified in one of the accounts of Jesus’ birth: “All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: ‘…they will call Him Immanuel,’ which means, ‘God with us’” (Matthew 1:23).

In the person of Jesus Christ, God took on human flesh to experience what we all experience, to teach and serve as an example of how to live, to die on the cross for our sins, and to rise from the dead to demonstrate victory over death so we can be assured of eternal life. But even after Jesus’ ascension, the Lord didn’t remove Himself from involvement in our everyday lives.

 

His last recorded words before ascending to heaven, He declared, “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). How could this be possible? As Jesus explained to His disciples, He was giving them – and us – the Holy Spirit, whom theologians term the third Person of the Trinity.

 

He said, “And I will ask the Father and He will give you another Counselor to be with you forever – the Spirit of truth…He lives in you and will be with you” (John 14:16-17). Then Jesus added, “But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you” (John 14:26).

 

Among the many distinctions between Christianity and every other religion, one that stands out in particular is that God is not a far-off, uninvolved, detached deity. From the first book of the Bible to the last, we find the Lord very much engaged in the goings-on of His creation. 

 

He walked and talked with Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden before their sin of disobedience. God instructed and guided Noah in the building of the ark. He assured childless Abram and Sarai that even in their old age they would have a son, fulfilling that promise after they had obeyed Him in leaving their former home. 

 

The Lord interacted directly with Jacob, renaming him Israel and making him the progenitor of the children of Israel. He gave the 10 commandments to Moses on Mt. Sinai after delivering the enslaved Israelites from Egypt, and appointed Joshua to lead them into the Promised Land.

 

Scanning the Scriptures, there has never been a time when God has not been with us. As King David wrote so exquisitely, “Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence? If I go up to the heavens, You are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there…. When I awake, I am still with You” (Psalm 139:7-18).

 

God spoke through prophets like Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, Hosea and Micah, and then came the glorious moment when the prophecy was fulfilled: “For unto us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on His shoulders. And He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).

 

The human mind struggles to comprehend how an eternal, infinite God can also be omnipresent – everywhere. And yet by faith we can believe and know this is true. Someone once asked the eminent American astronomer Henry Norris Russell, “How is it possible for such a great and infinite God to have time for me?” Russell replied, “An infinite God can dispatch the affairs of this universe in the twinkling of an eye, thus giving Him plenty of time for you.”

 

The magnitude of God taking on human flesh, as a baby and then as a man, is greater than any of us can fully grasp. But knowing that it includes the assurance that God is with us – always has been and always will be – should fill us with joy during another season of celebrating Christ’s birth. 

Picture the Universe. Now, Put Yourself in the Picture

Imagine walking into a huge hall, the largest room you’ve ever seen. Now picture this room containing an (obviously) miniaturized but accurate map of the universe. Within this map, try to find the Milky Way galaxy, in which our solar system resides. You’ll have to look hard – it’s only a speck. Next, search for our solar system. Good luck – in comparison to it, the speck would appear humongous. 

Suppose, with an electron mega-microscope or something, you finally find the solar system and the planets revolving around our sun. Now, attempt to find the earth. Even with the ultra-powerful microscope, not an easy task. But okay, let’s assume you can find it. Can you find the Grand Canyon? Lastly, try to find your house – and yourself in it.

A silly, impossible exercise, of course. But think about it: Comparing any one of us, and our tiny, finite brains, with the vastness, grandeur and complexity of the universe as we know it. (At least, as we believe we know it.) Even with myriad synapses, neurons and atoms, the human brain is woefully inadequate for attempting to fathom the scope of the universe. If we even try, it’s incredibly frustrating. Can’t be done. By contrast, it would be a snap for a flea to comprehend the totality of the Pacific Ocean.

Left out in this scenario is the God who created the universe. It’s even more mind-blowing to ponder the immensity of the universe – and then that it had a Creator. I think this is one motivation for skepticism. Despite how infinitesimally small we are in the grand scheme of things, it’s a blow to our egos to consider there is One who far surpasses anything we could ever comprehend. We’re inclined to reduce things to a level we can understand – or insist one day will be capable of understanding.

But if our finite minds can’t grasp the vast expanse of the universe, how could we possibly grasp the One who created it?

That’s where faith comes in. It’s not a matter of believing in something that isn’t, but rather trusting in what we can’t control, manage, or even fully comprehend. King David, in composing his psalms, wrestled with this, finally opting to accept vision via the eyes of faith rather than sight. He wrote, “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?” (Psalm 8:3-4).

Later we find the poetic king writing his trust that despite the vastness of all creation, we can be assured of God’s constant presence and care: “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there…” (Psalm 139:7-8).

In another Old Testament book, after listening to the lengthy discourse between Job and his friends concerning his apparently pointless suffering and loss, God responds: “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!...” (Job 38-41). Talk about putting someone in their place!

It all boils down to faith, as described in Hebrews 11:1, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” One day, however, in the words of the old hymn, “It Is Well With My Soul,” we have the confidence that our “faith shall become sight.” That’s good enough for me. 

Pondering the Prodigal’s Father

There’s no denying the impact the Bible has had on society, even though some are reluctant to admit it. Even in what has been termed this post-Christian, increasingly secularized age, we can’t ignore its influence, both in profound and not so profound ways.

We have Christmas, which traces its roots to a simple, inconspicuous birth more than 2,000 years ago in the Middle East. We’ve borrowed the term “good Samaritan” from one of Jesus’ parables. We’re all aware of the Ten Commandments, along with phrases such as “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” and “love your neighbor as yourself.”

And then we have the story of the Prodigal Son, another of Jesus’ parables, about a selfish young man who demanded his inheritance well in advance of his father’s death. This ingrate proceeded to squander his wealth, and then went back home, humbled and broken by his foolishness, reckless living, and gross disrespect for his loving father.

In non-religious contexts we hear of “prodigals,” people who in like manner return from times of rebellion. Countless books and messages have focused on the prodigal son. Writers and speakers also have addressed the sibling who remained home dutifully working for his father while the prodigal brother was engaging in a raucous lifestyle that culminated up in the company of pigs. They ponder how this brother responded when Mr. Prodigal came home to the welcoming embrace of their father.

But what about the prodigal’s father?

We don’t know a lot about him. We can only surmise. We do know the father surrendered the son’s share of the inheritance when it was requested. He could have refused, but didn’t. And we know when the family’s black sheep finally stumbled homeward, the father didn’t wait on the front porch, arms folded, mouth twisted into a scowl. He hurried to greet the son, enfolding him with unconditional, forgiving love. Then, so everyone else could share in the good news, the father called for a lavish, impromptu celebration.

Jesus’ telling of this story is recounted in Luke 15, along with parables about a lost sheep and a lost coin. Each account shows the sheer joy of recovering what was lost. And ultimately, in the prodigal’s father we see the response of our Heavenly Father, whom we have so often avoided, rejected, even attempted to flee. Yet, whenever one of His children returns – often bruised to the point of despair, much like the Bible’s prodigal son – God’s response is not condemnation or vindictiveness, but the same unconditional love and forgiveness.

Have you ever been a “prodigal”? Many of us have. And for a time we were able to convince ourselves we were doing just fine without God, And yet, as the psalmist wrote, “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there…” (Psalm 139:7-16).

Thankfully, while we may give up on God at times, He never gives up on us. When we determine it’s time to return to Him, we find Him right there, eagerly waiting to receive us. Then we can say, as the psalmist concludes, “How precious for me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them…. When I awake, I am still with you” (Psalm 139:17-18).

In Jeremiah 31:3 we’re told, “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.” And that, for those of us who are inclined toward wayward, rebellious thinking and living, is good news. Really good news.

Where IS God?

As I’ve written in a previous post, in the midst of life’s tragedies – and there are many – it’s not unusual nor surprising to hear people wondering, or even ask ourselves, “Where was God?” It’s a very good and valid question to ask, not only for skeptics but also for people of faith.

This question was raised frequently after the events of 9/11. It was posed when hurricanes Katrina and Sandy wreaked havoc in different parts of the United States. Some asked this recently when another tornado barreled through already ravaged portions of Oklahoma. It's probably often heard on bloody battlefields. This question certainly was on the minds of family members and friends after learning that a co-pilot had intentionally steered a jet carrying their loved ones into the side of a mountain in the French Alps, killing everyone aboard.

This question defies easy answers. In our humanness, we’d like for God to intervene and prevent every calamity, whether it involves a single individual or masses of people, such as the Boston Marathon bombing or a school shooting. Such tragedies do occur, however, and sometimes we can’t help but wonder, “Where was God when this was happening? Why didn’t He act to stop it?”

A student took this photo
the evening after a tornado
struck an Oklahoma town.

We can’t possibly find an answer apart from what we can see only through the eyes of faith. The atheist or agnostic can point to such grievous occurrences and declare, “See, there’s no God! How could your ‘loving God’ permit such things to occur?” Even those of us who do believe are inclined to ask “Why?” or at least, as some have suggested, “What?” In other words, what are we to learn from this tragedy?

Occasionally we do see glimpses of God in very unexpected ways. An infant, still secured in her car seat, survives an accident that claimed the life of her mother. Emergency responders rush to the child’s aid after hearing an unexplained voice that simply called, “Help me.”

In the aftermath of 9/11, we viewed a cross that somehow became fashioned from steel girders during the destruction of the Twin Towers. And recently, a student took a photo of a utility pole in Oklahoma after an F-1 tornado had stormed through town. The bottom portion of the pole had been severed, and the cross tie of the pole was suspended by wires, creating the image again of…a cross.

Such images are interesting – and I don’t believe coincidental. But lest we read too much into what they mean, I think there’s a more important question we should be asking: “Where IS God?”

Thankfully, this isn’t a question that requires speculation or supposition. Because we find the answer in the Scriptures, most notably Psalm 139, where the psalmist writes:

“Where can I go from your Spirit? When can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the seas, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast…even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you” (Psalm 139:7-12).

So the answer to the question, “Where is God?” is simple – everywhere. The theological term for this is omnipresent. The Bible teaches there is nowhere we can go where God is not. He is with us during the good times (when we often don’t even care whether he’s there or not), and He’s there in the bad times, ready to comfort, console, strengthen and, when He determines it’s time, usher us to our eternal home.

If we are confident in this, that God is indeed everywhere, the question concerning where was God when some tragedy occurred might be more easily resolved. As the student commented after taking the photo of the utility pole cross, "Just found this after the tornado. God is with us."