“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

That is the typical, well-intentioned text I send someone walking through a challenging season.

I’ve typed those words out dozens of times. I actually mean them. I really do want to help when a friend or acquaintance is overwhelmed by all that life’s throwing at them.

I’ve received those texts, too, and I know they come from a genuinely good place. But how often have I responded with, “Thanks! Could you please do A, B, and C for me?” I would say, almost never.

We’ve evolved into an exceedingly polite culture with extremely siloed lives. We don’t want to barge into other people’s spaces. We prefer for others not to barge into ours.

But, friend, could I suggest that we rethink our reticence? True community doesn’t happen without vulnerability. And, sometimes, vulnerability simply looks like showing up for others and letting others show up for you.

In Christian circles, we attribute the term “gentleman” to God (it may be a bit of a Gen X thing), meaning that He doesn’t barge into our hearts and occupy the throneroom of our lives. That is true.

But we also have the example of Jesus who wasn’t always the most “polite” or “courteous” company, if we go by our culture’s standards. Let me explain.

There was a time when Jesus called out to a short guy on a Sycamore tree and said, “Hey, I’m coming over to your house today.”

There was another occasion when He went over to Peter’s house when his mother-in-law was unwell. Jesus didn’t tiptoe around her or worry about germs. He just went up to her, healed her, and then—wait for it—let the “recovering” woman serve Him and His friends.

There were other times too, were, in today’s terms, Jesus “barged” in:

He walked up to two brothers busy with their fishing nets and invited them to be “fishers of men.”

He went to Jairus’s house when others thought it was time for a funeral and to Lazarus’s grave when his sisters were mourning his death.

He took the scenic route through the Samaria and posed fairly awkward questions to a woman with five husbands.

He joined two other guys on a walk to Emmaus and initiated a conversation with them.

You know what Jesus didn’t do? He didn’t send a text message saying, “Let me know how I can help”

Jesus just showed up. 

But it was never self-serving. He chose to serve others by entering their space, even when that meant risking vulnerability. 

Earlier this week, a friend found out he needed a pretty intensive surgery. Unlike me, the huberoo doesn’t hide behind well-intentioned texts. He just jumped into the car and drove to the hospital so he could be with his friend. And he did that multiple times this week without being “invited.”

Today, I am challenged to step out and do the inconvenient thing, the vulnerable thing, the awkward thing—not always but, at least, more often. Time doesn’t mean money in God’s economy—it means the other person feels valued and supported.

What does showing up look like? Maybe it is taking someone a meal. Perhaps it is to call someone and not text them (imagine that!). Or it’s going over to babysit a friend’s kidlings so she can catch a much-needed break. Often, the person on the other end is so overwhelmed that they don’t even know what they need, much less have the energy to communicate it to us. May we pray for discerning hearts to notice unspoken needs and compassionate hearts to meet those needs as God leads.

In a post-Covid world of social awkwardness, well-intentioned text messages seem to check the box. But there is power in showing up.

I’ve missed many opportunities to be the hands and feet of Jesus because I’ve hidden behind the convenience of screens. The more I’ve withdrawn, the more reticent I’ve become. Relationships can survive on DMs and WhatsApp messages. But they can’t thrive without real-life interactions.

Jesus stepped into the darkness of the world when the time was right—even though we didn’t officially invite Him or even care to recognize or revere Him. May we step into spaces where we are needed—even if we are not explicitly invited. May we do as Jesus did—even when it’s awkward and humbling.

Bringing it Home

Who in my circle needs a friend to “show up” right now? What are some ways I can be that friend? What are some ways I can be vulnerable and invite others to be there for me in practical ways?

Lean In

Father God,  I’ve often been content to check the box to show I care without actually showing up in a meaningful way. Forgive me for my lack of vulnerability. Forgive me for being overprotective of my time. Give me eyes to see those who are lonely and struggling—even if they don’t explicitly invite me into their pain. Give me a heart to serve. Help me to risk awkwardness and even rejection and simply show up with Your love. In Jesus’ name. Amen

 

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