DON’T JUST DO SOMETHING, STAND THERE

I’m a people-person. Basically, I like my fellow humans and, usually, I’m pretty good with them. I’m good at reading a room, intuiting the various vibes, and finding an effective way of maneuvering through and with all the personalities in play. I always score in like the 98th percentile for extraversion on Myers-Briggs personality tests.

It might be surprising, therefore, to hear that I experience quite a lot of social anxiety. I get really nervous before meeting someone new, before speaking to a group (even a small group), and in unfamiliar crowds and uncharted situations.

Seriously, knowing that I’m “good” with people doesn’t make me especially comfortable with them. In fact, the expectation sometimes just amps up the pressure to perform well. I feel like I’ve got to be the one who knows the right thing to say, the right thing to do. I should be charming and witty, strong and flexible, practical and compassionate. I’d better deliver. Or else…

For most of my life, I’ve been honing my interpersonal prowess. I’ve practiced being a leader without being too bossy, being kind without being too mushy, sounding smart without sounding snooty. And, like I said, I’m pretty good at it. It almost comes naturally.

But lately, all this been challenged in my new part-time job as a hospice chaplain.

On one hand, it seems like a lifetime of polishing my relational skills should make me well-suited for this role. And, indeed, I do feel like it’s a good fit. On the other hand, I’m finding that all my usual tactics and strategies don’t take me very far. Entering the lives of strangers who are experiencing tremendous stress and uncertainty, whose expectations are all over the map and sometimes utterly inscrutable, I can’t plot my way through. I’m still inclined, anxiously, to try to chart in advance a charming approach — literally, I rehearse my lines in the car before knocking on the door. But, invariably, the words I’ve prepared turn out never to be the right ones. Every single time, the tender reality of the situation forces me to be present. Which is always more awkward than the script I had in my head.

More awkward, more complicated. More unsure and unsettling. More real.

In John Green’s beautiful book, The Anthropocene Reviewed, he writes briefly about his own work as a hospital chaplain as a young man. It was perfect timing recently for me to read the awesome advice that his mentor gave him back then: “Don’t just do something, stand there.”

Mostly, I believe the things I do I’m doing for very good reasons, with the best intentions.  This is true of most of us, most people most of the time.  We want to make things better.  To fix problems, to heal hurts, to change that which doesn’t appear to be working.  We try to be beneficial for the world.  And it’s extremely satisfying to feel like we said or did the right thing.  

What I’m discovering, though, is that sometimes the best thing has little to do with saying or doing anything. Sometimes, the best thing is just to stand there. To be there. Here. Now.

Even if what I want to do, what I’m really trying to do, is to help — sometimes, the best thing is simply to witness, to listen, to be present and open.

For sure, I’m experiencing this in a stark way with my hospice work, but I think it’s also applicable to a lot of the rest of my life.  Where I’m busy doing-doing-doing when simply standing might be more helpful.  Where standing might be a lot less stressful for me and also more beneficial for others.  And I wonder:  how much of my doing is less about actually improving the situation, and more about alleviating my own discomfort and uncertainty in it?  

I mean, of course there’s tons of stuff to be said and done. The world need us to speak up, to take action, to commit, and to do.

But before we trip all over ourselves getting on top of things, getting ahead of the game, practicing our old routines, it might be worth asking, from time to time:

• What do I stand for?

• Who am I standing with, and by, and to what end?

• Does this situation really require me to do something, or might I serve more powerfully by facing it, experiencing it, standing in it?

Each of us — simply by virtue of our being — stands as the presence of the Divine in our lives. We don’t have to earn the right, we already have it. We don’t have to perfect ourselves in order to get it right, we already are. And I believe that the more we stand on purpose, with purpose, the more creative will be any subsequent words and deeds we might offer.

I can’t wait to be with you this Sunday, June 22. Oscar Butler is our special musical guest! XO, Drew

©2025 Drew Groves