Borrowed Courage: Finding God When We Gather Again

This scripture found me again this morning.

It is the same one I have been quietly carrying all week, Hebrews 10:25.

Not in a scholarly way. Not even in a particularly polished way. Just quietly. Letting the words settle where they want to settle.

“Not neglecting to meet together.”

It sounds simple when you read it. Almost straightforward. And yet, I think for many of us, it feels anything but simple in real life.

Because if I am honest, gathering has not always felt easy for me.

There have been plenty of times when walking into church felt tender.

Other times when it felt heavy.

And a few even, if I am telling the whole truth... when it felt quietly intimidating in ways I could not quite explain.

But I keep coming back to what I have seen.

In my own life, yes.

But also sitting beside so many others.

One of the things I see most often with my clients is the deep fear of returning to church.

Not the loud kind of fear. The quiet kind.

The kind that whispers questions like, “What if I don’t belong anymore?” or “What if someone asks where I’ve been?” or even, “What if I go back and feel nothing?”

I recognize those questions because I have heard them so many times.

And because, if I am honest...I have asked a few of them myself in different times of my life.

So sometimes, for the locals and for those who are within driving distance, I will simply just go sit with them on Sundays.

No agenda. No fixing. Just presence.

We slip into the pew together. We sing, sometimes softly. We shake hands with the people around us. We listen. For a few weeks, I stay close enough for them to borrow a little courage. And slowly, gently, something begins to shift. They start recognizing faces.

Conversations linger a little longer.

Someone remembers their name.

Someone asks them to come back.

And eventually... I slip away.

Sometimes I joke that I feel a little like Mary Poppins in those moments. In and out. Umbrella quietly folded behind me. But truly, it is one of my favorite things. Watching someone who felt on the outside rediscover what it feels like to belong again. Watching faith, almost shy at first, begin to breathe again.

For me personally, not neglecting to meet together has strengthened me in ways I did not expect.

It steadies me.

Even on the Sundays when I arrive distracted or tired or carrying something heavy I have not sorted out yet.

Maybe especially those Sundays.

There is something about sitting among people who are trying, imperfectly, just like I am, that reminds me I do not have to carry everything alone.

I think sometimes we imagine obedience to verses like this will look bold and dramatic. But most of the time, at least in my experience, it looks quiet.

It looks like walking through the doors again when you would rather stay home.

It looks like texting a friend and asking, “Can I sit with you?”

It looks like staying five minutes longer than you planned and letting one conversation happen.

If togetherness has felt distant for you lately, maybe the next step does not have to be complicated. Maybe it is smaller than you think.

I have seen what happens when someone takes even one small step back toward connection. I have watched courage grow in small increments. I have watched hearts soften. I have watched God meet people in pews they almost did not sit in.

And I will say this gently, because I know how personal this can feel.

It is almost always worth it.

God is often in the details like these.

Quiet Sundays.

Nervous steps.

Borrowed courage.

A familiar hymn.

A hand on your shoulder.

And sometimes... simply showing up becomes the miracle.