Good News In Goodbyes
“This is my command: Love one another the way I loved you. This is the very best way to love. Put your life on the line for your friends.”
In the context surrounding that verse above, Jesus was preparing to say goodbye. He knew that his departure was just around the corner. And so, he has a long talk with his disciples in John’s Gospel. But we read that Jesus didn’t just see them as apprentices or students. He saw them as friends. I love that perspective of friendship. It’s an interpretation we don’t often explore. Today, we would probably call this kind of connection “Framily”—close friends who are not related to us but might as well be our family members.
For a moment, think about all that Jesus and his loved ones experienced from town to town:
The miracles they performed and witnessed.
The conflict they had to work through.
The laughs they shared.
The tears they shed with one another.
The life they lived together.
While I imagine their relationship was filled with highs and lows, I doubt they would have traded it for anything else. I think they had a keen sense that this bond between teacher and students—between friends—was providential. God masterfully orchestrated it. And as a result, both Jesus and his friends had a steadfast hope that would outlast whatever came after the farewell. Preparing for goodbyes isn’t necessarily fun news, but it can be good news.
“Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”
In a day or so, I am moving to Tulsa, Oklahoma, to become the Director of Youth Ministries at Boston Avenue United Methodist Church. As I write this post, I’m sitting in front of a stack of farewell notes from New Providence Community Church congregants and my close friends. I am totally overwhelmed by these kind gestures and other conversations over the past two weeks. I am incredibly grateful for how God has used me to have an impact and how these relationships have equally as blessed me.
A few years ago, I was going through a wilderness season—uncertain of what was next since I returned home to The Bahamas. On the first Sunday after Easter, I visited Christ Church Cathedral in Downtown Nassau and heard the church sing “Because He Lives” during communion. I was moved to tears by the lyrics, “and life is worth the living just because he lives.” “Life is worth the living” has become a mantra for me.
Well, this year, I returned to Christ Church Cathedral for Easter. This time, I had much more clarity about what was next. As I took communion and returned to my seat, the organist began to play the chorus to . . . you guessed it . . . “Because He Lives.” I wasn’t sure if to laugh or cry. So, I did both, and it felt like such a holy moment. And even though the bittersweet feeling of relocating back to the US hasn’t disappeared, I believe that I’m not going on this new adventure alone. I have a friend in Jesus who promised to carry all my anxieties and burdens.
How I feel about leaving home again is simply a tension we all feel. There is a fondness for the familiar. But simultaneously, we know that we must let go of what’s comfortable in order to bloom into what’s possible. So, I choose to feel the emotions, knowing they flow from a place of love. I choose to celebrate opportunities for existing and new relationships to blossom. I choose to be grateful for the chance to love and be loved.
And in times like these, that’s some good news, if ever there was any.
