Visualize
Descend: To lower oneself in status or dignity.[1]
John 6:38, “For I have come down from heaven to do the will of God who sent me, not to do my own will.”
Read
The first night in our Southdale town home, I didn’t sleep a wink. The chattering and pitter-pattering of kids running down the street outside our window at 11pm, along with the roar of the semis on the nearby highway, kept me wide eyed all night long. “I will never sleep again!” I told my husband. A few weeks in our space, my body finally adjusted to the sounds and rhythms of our new normal. Every afternoon our neighbors migrated onto the front steps of the four-plex to smoke and chat while their kids played on the patch of grass out front. One afternoon I introduced myself to a couple mamas living in town homes on either side, and their cool stiffness said without saying “You are not one of us and I don’t trust you.”
I wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap between us, so I tried connecting the only way I knew how—an invitation for coffee and conversation. I bravely walked the ten feet between my door and that of my curly-haired, olive-skinned Samoan neighbor. She nodded politely at my invitation to coffee the next morning, “Sure, I like coffee. I’ll come.” The next morning, I waited with hot coffee and fresh scones sitting on my countertop. 10:15, 10:30, and still I waited. At 11am I walked over and knocked on her door—no answer. I sighed. She’s not coming. Coffee is not going to work.
My neighbors weren’t coming to my space for coffee, so I joined them on their afternoon smoke breaks on the front stoop. At 3 pm I’d take my boys outside and set them free to play on the lawn with the neighbor kids, and I’d listen to the women talk. There was no conversation about the latest Lulu Lemon drop, charity work, education, politics, or summer vacations. They talked of food, paying the bills, social programs, kids’ behaviors, relational drama, and partners who “gamed too much,” all while using colorful expletives to highlight every emotional nuance. Their rawness unsettled me and drew me in. They cared nothing for middle-class resume flashing because, as one neighbor said, “Sh*%!! Southdale is the armpit of the city!” and when you fight on the daily to keep a roof over your head and the electricity turned on, you aren’t impressed by someone’s vacation to Aruba or where they went to college. The few times I referenced such things, I saw the unspoken message in their eyes: You don’t impress me much.
Descending into the “armpit of the city” for eleven years was not part of my plan, but during our years there Jesus helped me see that I did not listen or love well. Learning to love meant lowering myself—descending—into my neighbors’ world through slowing down and attuning to what they valued most. As pastor and author Paul Miller says in his personal testimony,[2]
“Jesus had a kind of attentiveness to the other person, and one of my little epiphanies was ‘My goodness! I’m more efficient than Jesus. And the reason I’m more efficient is I am not attentive to people, because if you are attentive, it’s going to slow you down. Love is not efficient.”
Jesus came down from heaven and dwelt among us. He met us in the here-and-now of our everyday conversations and struggles. He saw us by listening, asking questions, and leaning into our pain and unfolding stories. This is the beauty of the incarnation—Love submitting to his father’s will by descending to walk among us and know us as we truly are.
Ponder
How might Jesus be calling you to slow down and descend into the story of another this week?
Pray
Inhale: You descended . . .
Exhale: That I might descend too . . .
*You can find the full post series here.
[1] Merriam-Webster.com
[2] Learning to Love. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yww9eEZgUhw
Pursued 