It was just a few words in a text, but it took my breath away. My friend wanted to thank me for praying.
I hadn’t told her I was praying for her. But she knew. A few weeks ago, she’d shared some vulnerable pieces of her life after a MOPS meeting. We’d fumbled through the awkwardness and hugged with tear-brimmed eyes.
Sometimes the awkward conversations are the most important ones we can have.
When we move past the “I’m fine” and the feigned smiles and get down to the insecurities keeping us up at night, real conversations begin. Real relationships begin. Instead of merely talking about the church and assembling in a building once or twice a week, we become the church.
But that’s also when the real work begins, and it often sends us running.
Weeks passed, and whenever she would come to mind, I’d say a prayer. Even…
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