Near to the Ground
Recently a phrase spoken to me by a leader within the diverse city of Toronto has been echoing in my heart.
As he shared with me how his church does ministry in a multicultural environment, he often repeated the phrase “near to the ground”. It was meant to be an adjective, a simple descriptor to salt the actual meat of the conversation, and yet, it was the language that carried the cut me the deepest.
“Near to the ground.”
What does this mean? How do we follow Jesus and make disciples “near to the ground”?
I think of all of my three kids in the season of crawling, who by the very definition spent the entirety of their days, “near to the ground”. As a result, they had a knack for finding every old cheerio that has evaded the vacuum or every lego we missed cleaning up. To be near to the ground permits a vision for what most miss and what evades those too removed from the ground.
I think of the hours spent walking and exploring my city. The more I walk, the more I began to remember faces, places, and details. East Lansing has become less of a series of images that flash by me on my commute, but a living, breathing thing that I can see, smell, hear, and feel. It has become a place that because I’m near to it, it feels near to me.
Above all, I think of Jesus. Jesus, the Word became flesh and, as Eugene Peterson allegorized the one who “moved into the neighborhood” (John 1:14). Paul described this unique “nearing to the ground” process that God took in Philippians 2:5-11, “coming in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross.”. The author of Hebrews describes Jesus as the high priest who draws near to the ground, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” (Hebrews 4:15).
The entirety of the Gospel rests on our ability to understand Jesus getting “near to the ground.” Because that’s where we are.
What does a life near to the ground look like? It’s a question that is shaping me.
Being near to the ground reveals secret details. It’s often in the cracks and crevices of our communities where we find the details of people’s stories that have the power to authentically connect us. It’s noticing that a business got a new sign, a frequent passer-by got a new haircut, or the barista at the coffee shop isn’t wearing her usual smile.
Being near to the ground means being near to the broken. This principle is embedded in how we communicate and experience our society. We talk about “climbing to the top” as a means of destiny and success. The more you climb, the higher you get. The higher you get, the more successful you become. Yet, in our ascent to greater elevations we miss, forget, and stop seeing the many who don’t possess means of upward mobility. The poor, broken, and marginalized are those nearest to the ground.
Being near to the ground means becoming aware of the subtleties of the communities that we make our home in. Experts say almost 90% of communication is non-verbal, meaning we communicate more by body language, subtleties, posture, and expression that we do with vocal utterances. Body language, simply cannot be well interpreted outside of deep relationship. Like a well-seasoned married couple that rarely needs words and seems to have developed an almost telepathic style of communication, what would it look like to become experts at reading the nuances of the cultures we are among and the places we inhabit?
Near to the ground.
In a culture of rapid movement, it’s choosing to be slow so others can be seen.
In a world of racing agendas, it’s choosing to stop so others can be served.
In a life of routine, it’s choosing to be simple so others can be esteemed.
And like Jesus, getting near to the ground requires an emptying, a humbling, and a pursuit of people. Being near to the ground is counter-cultural and counter-natural. As we descend, our soul rubs against the friction of pride, ego, self, status, busyness, and efficiency. It’s near the ground we discover, not just new people, but we rediscover the Savior who bids us to go with Him through Samaria to converse with the broken, and we discover more of ourselves, free from the false summits our world coaxes us to pursue.
