The Ones Who Leave Without Goodbye

Hello, my sweet friends.

The bells are going downtown this morning. If you've never been to Charleston, I wish you could hear them. Every steeple in this city has something to say on a Monday.

I want to talk about something hard today. I want to talk about the people who leave.

Some of you wrote to me about a husband who walked out with one suitcase. A daughter who stopped calling. A friend who sat next to you in church for twelve years and one Sunday just wasn't there. No note. No goodbye. And you've been standing in the doorway ever since.

Jesus knew that doorway. Listen.

"From that time many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him. Then said Jesus unto the twelve, Will ye also go away? Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life."

Many walked no more with Him. Many. The Son of God, and people still left.

So here is what I believe, friends, and I believe it because I've lived it. Not everyone who leaves is a loss. Some people leave because God is protecting you from them. Some people leave because they were never really there. And some people leave because they've decided the story is about them, and they can't stay in a story where they aren't the hero.

Years ago a young man used to sit in the back of our church. Bright, wounded, so hungry for a family. We gave him all we had. And one night he was just gone. One night. No goodbye. His mama still puts up flyers downtown, and every time I pass one on a pole, I stop and pray for her.

I don't know where he went. I only know that God doesn't lose anybody. People disappear from us. They never disappear from Him.

Let's pray.

Father, for everyone standing in a doorway this morning, close the door gently and turn them toward the light. For every mother who is still looking, hold her. And for the ones who left, wherever they are, may they find what they couldn't find with us. In Jesus' name, amen.

I'm Rebecca. This has been Midnight Bread. Go be somebody's blessing today.