I rushed in like usual, right before the worship team got started, and saw you.
Well, I saw the top of your head.
One row ahead, you were bowed down in prayer, knees on the ground. Like people used to do.
You stayed there for a while, and I worried. Are you in crisis? Are you overcome with grief?
Maybe I should kneel alongside him and ask if he wants to pray together or talk.
I agonized over this — did the Holy Spirit really nudge me to talk with you? Or would that be disruptive?
I’ll connect with him after the service. OOOH, I’ll ask my husband to do it. He’s a total extrovert and MUCH better at meeting strangers.
So being the good wife I am, I nudged the husband right as the service ended.
What happened next broke my heart.
We didn’t get to talk, but you left a note behind.
“Great comedy show.”
You looked jaded. And hurt.
The sermon covered Mark 4:1-20, a parable many of us struggle with and was delivered by one of my favorite pastors, who is unafraid to be bold yet be authentic and where appropriate, deliver a few smiles with his trademark humor.
Maybe something triggered you. I couldn’t find you afterward, but here’s what I’d like to say.
I’m sorry. Can we talk?
Living as a Christian isn’t always comfortable. I should have stepped out of my comfort zone and personally reached out. I’m not sure I could have made a difference, but not reaching out is worse.
I’m praying for you. I hope you heal. I hope someone connects with you. I hope you realize Jesus loves you and it’s not too late. I hope you come back Sunday.
Let’s pray. Father, you are close to the brokenhearted. You made us, you know us, and you are not deceived by the condition of our heart. Please intervene in this man’s life and bring him straight back to you and put the right people in his path. Please embolden and change us to love others and better represent you. All for your will and kingdom. Amen.