And yet, and yet…

Having worked in ministry for a long time, I often latch onto strange phrases that become part of the normal language of ministry. We can do this with other churchy words like sacrament and doctrine and liturgy, etc. One phrase in particular that makes me stop in my tracks, but which I hear almost every week at the end of a sermon: “Maybe you’re here…”

Usually this phrase is part of the invitation to respond, acknowledging that a message from the Word of God isn’t spoken into a vacuum but that God appoints us to interact with truths that call for lifechange. It’s a beautiful difference between teaching and preaching, that while teaching can present truths, preaching proclaims them, giving a rallying cry to follow and grow.

And yet when I hear, “Maybe you’re here…” I do wonder. For those experiencing the sermon, where are their hearts and minds at that moment? Maybe at lunch, maybe on doubt, maybe in rapture. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

We live our lives so much in chance and in hope of serendipity that much of our existence in the world is like a shadow, a whisper, a half-commitment. We want to engage in that which is right and truthful, yet our fear of committing and leaning into reality causes our impact to fade. And the more that we fail engage and appear, the more we look and feel like phantoms. We want that delicious fate to fit into our hearts and complete us, turning from seed to tree without ever weathering the storms as a sapling.

The ironic thing is that the things that cause us fear and anxiety and awkwardness are the actual things that confirm our existence. Our love, our relationships, our risks, our adventures, our thoughts, our sacrifices. These are the movements of real people, those that are here.

But our doubt, our prevarication, our cynicism, our flakiness, cause us to retreat like shadows. And I love what CS Lewis said in his book The Great Divorce, “Reality is harsh on the feet of shadows.”

So in this new year, maybe you’re here, or maybe you’re not. Perhaps in your unwillingness to engage with a world that could and has hurt, you’ve been blown like a ghost in the wind. Or perhaps you’ve begun to push through the whisps of doubt to press into the painful reality.

Sometimes its the painful things that remind you that you’re alive.

So what do I say to this to you who are maybe here? Don’t fall for the lies of a world that says you can encapsulate and cultivate your reality to the effect that you’ll be invincible. Don’t pick safety over truth. Seek out that which would sharpen you, illuminate you, cause you to sacrifice for the sake of the other. Only dead things are invincible.

And maybe you are here today.

So I ask you not to lose heart over what I am suffering for you, which is your glory. Ephesians 3:13