A friend recently recounted the following fable.
A baby was walking on a path toward what was, for him, a new and completely unfamiliar experience–birth. (Don’t ask me how the baby was walking. That’s not the point).
Traveling the opposite direction on the same path was a very old man, stooped and limping. He had just died and was walking a path toward an uncertain destination.
As they passed each other on the path, they caught each other’s eyes. They recognized the fear each was carrying.
The old man looked at the baby and said, “I can see you’re afraid.” The baby said, “Yes, yes, I am. I’m on this path, but I don’t know where I’m going.”
“Well,” the old man said, ”I have just come from where you are going, and I am here to tell you that it is incredible. It is full of joy and sorrow, but so worth it. You will have the best time!”
The baby looked relieved, then said to the man, “How about you? Are you scared about where you’re going?”
“Yes, I have just left being human and I’m on this path toward whatever is next. I don’t know where I am going, and I’m afraid.”
The baby responded, “Oh, you must be headed toward where I’m coming from! I’m telling you, it’s the best place ever! You’re going to love it!”
They smiled at each other and walked back onto the path, headed in opposite directions. Then they turned to wave a final goodbye, and smiling, they called out again, “Have the best time!”
That story moved me because our experiences are often too painful to live alone. No matter where along the journey we are, if we are accompanied by one another, then we can be less afraid.
In John 20:19-31, it had been a whole week after the women had first run, breathless, into the disciples’ meeting room and blurted out the astounding news that the tomb was empty and that they had run into Jesus himself.
After that, as each day progressed and news trickled in about the upheaval in Jerusalem, the disciples’ situation got worse. Instead of hope and possibility, joy and relief, the stale air in that upper room must have hung heavy with sadness, doubt, pain, regret, fear and shame.
But then, a strange thing happened, something that would become increasingly familiar as the impending days unfolded. Jesus miraculously, through a locked door, appeared in the middle of the chaos and spoke a word of peace.
We probably don’t know the whole story of what they did. We don’t know how long Jesus was there or what happened after he left. And though they still didn’t know what the future would hold for them, at least they knew they weren’t alone.
Jesus showed up. That was what all the disciples needed to transform the pain, fear and doubt of the previous weeks into a conviction that would fuel the future they would build.
Over 2,000 years later, I think there’s a lesson to be learned here about the truth that just showing up in community is half the battle.
I’m not talking about showing up to sing a solo, preach a sermon, collect the offering, or help set up fellowship hour at church. I’m talking about you, sitting in a pew or a chair or a bar stool or whatever, perhaps sharing a hello with the person next to you, or maybe even a smile for a stranger across the room.
I’m saying that you, doing nothing beyond lending your presence to a community you care about, is a powerful expression of Easter and new life.
Showing up is a public declaration of faith. It is akin to saying out loud:
I belong here.
These are the people with whom I am making my way in the world.
This is the place where I am asking questions about my life.
This is the community where my life is planted and nurtured.
I know showing up in that way feels scary to some of us because when we belong, we also assume responsibility for caring for each other.
But walking this human road alone is scarier than saying, “This is where I belong.”
Easter has come and gone, and we are all rubbing our eyes and trying to make sense of resurrection. If you are anything like me, maybe you don’t know if you can gather the courage you need to live your life and build your community to reflect resurrection.
Perhaps we can learn from this story of Jesus and the disciples that showing up is half the battle—it may, in fact, be more than half. You showing up, me showing up, and us showing up together send a powerful message to the world around us.
Like the baby and the old man who crossed paths and helped each other keep going, we can never forget how profound the gift of presence can be.
As Ram Dass was fond of saying, “We’re all just walking each other home.”
Founder of Invested Faith, she previously served as pastor of several churches, including as the seventh senior minister and first woman at the helm of The Riverside Church in the City of New York. Butler holds degrees from Baylor University, the International Baptist Theological Seminary and Wesley Theological Seminary. She is a contributing correspondent at Good Faith Media.