I Am More than What I Do: What Badminton Taught Me About Presence

 “I’m no good at sports! I don’t want to play badminton! Leave me alone!” I dramatically, only half-jokingly protested to my husband. 

“Come on,” he begged. “You should try it. I’d love to play with you… At least come and watch me and Daniel.”

Daniel was a 14-year-old boy who lived in our neighborhood and regularly came to the community center where my husband worked. He attended my weekly English class, and he was learning badminton too. He was talented and wanted to enter a competition, but he didn’t have a partner. Without a partner, he couldn’t play. So my husband volunteered to partner with him and practice together.

I was happy they could play together. I thought my husband would stop asking me to come if he had a partner; I wanted to stay far away from the badminton court! 

Eventually, though, my husband persuaded me to come and watch them. So I made an appearance, applauded my husband and Daniel as they played, took photographs, refilled their water bottles, and followed them around the court to watch their different games.

I thought that would be enough to let me off the hook! But after that, Daniel asked me every week, “Are you coming with us again? Are you coming this time?”

Usually, I couldn’t. But one day, I finally replied, “Yes, I’m coming today.”

He was so excited! I was surprised and touched by his enthusiasm. What had I done to deserve this response? I had merely shown up at the badminton court. And what did I have to offer? I didn’t play badminton, so I couldn’t practice with him or teach him as my husband did. But he was happy just to have me there.

For me, that was a meaningful reminder of the value of simply being there for someone. Presence is powerful.

Is my worth in what I do?

TCK life and identity often revolve around some kind of service. Growing up as a pastor’s kid/missionary kid, I somehow developed a belief that my value was tied to what I could do for others. People had high expectations for a PK to be a great example and contribute to church life. There was always a heavy emphasis on “serving the Lord” and “doing the Lord’s work.” Later, my work (teaching, writing, and radio) also revolved around helping people.

Service, usefulness, and productivity are all wonderful things in their place. But I began to realize that it was dangerous to tie my worth to them. Job loss and cross-cultural moves lessened my output and capacity. It was disconcerting. If I wasn’t being useful, and if I couldn’t “perform” well enough, would I still be loved? Would there still be a place for me?

This issue came up again after I got married and moved to a new city and church in Korea. Instead of being surrounded by English speakers at church and work, now the people around me spoke mainly Korean or Russian, which felt isolating at times. Instead of going to an English-speaking international church, I had to go to a Korean one where my husband was the associate pastor. 

There, instead of being up front leading and teaching as I was used to, my baby Korean skills relegated me to mostly clicking through the PowerPoint presentations for the service. I felt muted. My identity as a helpful, beneficial communicator was severely shaken. I worried that people would judge me for not being very useful.

So, when Daniel expressed his delight at my mere presence at the badminton game, I was genuinely moved.

Learning to value presence

As I sat on the court bleachers and watched them play that night, I thought of the well-known Bible story of Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38–42). Martha had been busy in the kitchen, serving in important ways. She got angry at her sister Mary for “just” being with Jesus, sitting at his feet and listening to Him instead of helping her with the work. I would be upset in her position too! But Jesus had a surprising response: “You are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed – or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:42 NIV).

Presence matters.

God wants me to spend quality time with Him rather than simply work for Him. God invites me to slow down, stop worrying about what I’m doing or not doing, and be with Him. He values my presence, and wants me to value His too.

He also reminds me that the power of being present applies to my other relationships too. There are other ways to love people that do not have to involve busily speaking, teaching, or being up front.

I resonate with something I read by Henri Nouwen, written while he was a missionary in South America:

“More and more, the desire grows in me simply to walk around, greet people, enter their homes, sit on their doorsteps, play ball, throw water, and be known as someone who wants to live with them. It is a privilege to have the time to practice this simple ministry of presence. Still, it is not as simple as it seems. My own desire to be useful, to do something significant, or to be part of some impressive project is so strong that soon my time is taken up by meetings, conferences, study groups, and workshops…

It is difficult not to have plans, not to organize people around an urgent cause, and not to feel that you are working directly for social progress. But I wonder more and more if the first thing shouldn’t be to know people by name, to eat and drink with them, to listen to their stories and tell your own, and to let them know with words, handshakes, and hugs that you do not simply like them, but truly love them.”[1]

Remembering God’s Perspective

As I continually find myself in situations where my usefulness is limited because of language barriers and cultural differences, God reminds me that there is value in the ministry of presence.

He reminds me: Your worth is not tied to your productivity. The ministry of presence is valid. Your identity as a valuable, beloved child of God – or as a friend, family member, or church member – is not in jeopardy if you cannot always “perform.”

God calls us to love Him with our heart, mind, and soul, and to love others as ourselves (Matthew 22:37–39). Sometimes, love looks less like “doing” and more like “being.” Sometimes, presence is enough. Cheering someone else on is enough. Listening to and supporting someone is enough. Showing up is enough. 

And so, I keep going to the badminton court with my husband, my student Daniel, and some of his teenage friends. I root for them, and encourage them to keep trying if they lose. I awkwardly, laughingly hit a shuttlecock back and forth with them, appreciating their patience with my low-level skills. In fact, I can choose the ministry of presence, resting in the knowledge of my unchanging value.

Will you choose the ministry of presence today?