Greater Love (April 18, 2025)

John 15:13 KJV – Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

It’s Good Friday. I’m off work. The sun is shining just enough to remind me that resurrection is near—and so is rest. But this isn’t just any Friday. It’s also my great-grandmother’s heavenly birthday. She would’ve been 107 today. A century and some change. Her name carries weight I still don't fully understand, but I know I stand on it.

And while we prepare for the holiday this weekend, I’m reminded of the power of sharing—food, space, stories, presence. I’ll be cooking this Sunday. That act alone feels like sacred work. Like feeding myself and others is one small way to keep the family tradition alive.

But even as I reflect on legacy, I feel the ache of disconnection. Some of the people closest to me—my foundation—have been navigating heavy seasons of their own. My family is stretched right now, showing up for one another in ways that require deep care, sacrifice, and patience. And while I’ve kept in touch, I haven’t been physically present like I want to be. Part of that is timing—having a young child means navigating things differently. But part of it is also emotional: knowing when to lean in, when to hold space, and when to trust the love that’s always held us together.

It’s not about distance in the heart, but about learning new ways to show up. I’m learning that sometimes support looks like creativity. Like prayer. Like patience. Like grace. And that even in our most tender moments, community is still being formed—just in ways that don’t always look like what we’re used to.

The truth is, I’ve been in a bit of a long season. One where the absence of community has felt like the greatest cost. And yet, I understand isolation can be holy. Necessary even. I’ve needed time to come home to myself. Because when I’m too out in the world, I start to lose the core of who I am. Still, there’s no denying this: the most painful moments in my life came when I didn’t have community to hold me through.

That’s where this scripture hits different. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13) That’s vulnerability. That’s trust. That’s communion. But how can we ever get there if we don’t have real community?

We’re missing out on the greatest expression of love not because we’re unworthy, but because we’ve been taught to be guarded. Silent. Separate. We’ve been attacked by systems that isolate, shamed by cultures that praise self-reliance over mutual care, and numbed by a society that makes vulnerability feel dangerous. But love requires vulnerability. It asks us to lay something down—not just our lives, but our pride, our fears, our perfectionism, our silence.

And until we find our way back to one another, we’ll continue to suffer in ways we were never meant to. Because the truth is—we’re not supposed to carry all this alone.

So maybe today is a call back. A spiritual reminder. A nudge to revisit the things that made us whole before the world pulled us apart. A call to revisit our institutions. Our ways of living. To reimagine what it means to be together.

Community isn’t just nice to have. It’s the only way forward. And real love—divine love—requires us to show up not just for ourselves, but for each other.

I’m choosing to lay something down this weekend. My silence. My pride. My distance. So I can make space for something bigger: us.

Amen.

Peace.