Emptiness
This morning I arrived at our church building. It has never been this quiet. No Pastor Francis bellowing how good God is in his Caribbean accent. No Doug, the 85 year old special needs person who is convinced that his 26 although he looks exactly like the old man in Up, to lighten my day. No Niki, their carer to say good morning to. No strange autistic man standing around looking like he directs an orchestra and raises his brows peculiar when I walk past. No Nick sitting at his computer. No Elaine who just suddenly and shyly appear like a Norwegian cat to drop off something good. No Judy showing me what following Jesus really looks like. No troubled teens giving me a hard time. No Dave getting his guitar ready. No Linda or Sandy taking care of overlooked details. No African church kids running around or their parents singing Gods praises as only Africans can do. No humongous blue GMC Truck outside because John won’t be coming in to say hi today…
Just an empty fellowship hall with a very clean floor where old and young, saint and sinner, black and white used to gather, exchanged laughter and sometimes tears. Through two small windows I haven’t noticed before the sun is shining brightly, so bright that I thought the lights are on when I entered. I go and sit crossed legged on the floor facing the windows. The sun shines on me. Even though so much is amiss God fills the empty space around me and in me. I pray. I don’t know what is going to happen. I don’t know how or what to even do tomorrow in order to respond to this crisis and how it is affecting other people and me. But as I sit here; this I know. God, Jesus, is right here with me and with everybody I am thinking about now.
When He fills this place with the people again, whose absence feels so tangible this morning; may I be as aware of God’s presence in them as I am now of His presence in their absence. We really do take too much for granted.