Lynchburg Virginia Community

Church #176 was once again not found in a pew. There was no sanctuary, no choir, no pulpit, and no traditional Sunday morning service for me this week.

Instead, church happened during a home visit with a family who needed assistance, and the longer I continue on this journey, the more I realize that maybe some of the greatest sermons we will ever hear or preach will never be spoken from behind a pulpit at all.

Sometimes the sermon is simply showing up.

What an honor it is to be invited into someone’s life, especially during a hard season, and to have an opportunity to serve them. When someone allows you into their home and trusts you enough to share pieces of their story, their worries, their needs, and the people they loved, it is so humbling. As I sat and talked with this precious family, the sermon that kept rising in my heart was incredibly simple…

Cherish the people you love.

Cherish them now.

Love them now, because one of the hardest lessons life has taught me is that we are never promised as much time as we think we have.

James 4 tells us that our life is like a vapor, appearing for a little while and then vanishing.

I understand the vapor differently now.

I understand the value of one more conversation differently. I understand one more hug differently. I understand sitting around doing absolutely nothing with someone you love differently. I understand the value of photographs, laughter, ordinary afternoons, familiar voices, and the little things we so easily take for granted until we would give anything to experience them one more time.

That is why I believe cherishing people is deeply biblical.

Jesus said in John 13:34, “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” I keep coming back to that command throughout this journey because I am becoming convinced that we sometimes make Christianity far more complicated than Jesus did.

Love God.

Love people.

Serve.

Show up.

Comfort people.

Pray for people.

And cherish the people God has placed in your life while they are still here to be cherished.

That does not mean relationships will be easy. People are complicated. Families are complicated. Life is complicated. Loving people the way Jesus commands does not mean abandoning common sense or pretending unhealthy things are healthy, but it does mean remembering that every person standing in front of us is someone God created and loves and we can always love and pray from a distance.

And time is precious.

I think grief has made me painfully aware of that.

There are things I wish could be different. There are conversations I wish I could still have. There are questions that may never receive answers on this side of heaven. I have learned in the hardest possible way that tomorrow is not ours to promise ourselves.

Maybe that is why sitting with this family affected my heart the way it did.

It reminded me again, love people while you can.

Say the thing.

Give the hug.

Make the phone call.

Sit a little longer.

We spend so much of our lives moving on toward the next thing that sometimes we forget that the people beside us are the thing.

I am learning that lesson myself.

Since my work schedule has changed, church is going to look different for me for a while. I will not always be able to attend a traditional Sunday morning service, and if you have followed this journey from the beginning, you know how much I love walking into churches, meeting congregations, hearing pastors preach, experiencing different traditions, and watching the body of Christ worship in so many beautiful ways. There is a part of me that misses that rhythm.

But perhaps God is not pausing this journey.

Perhaps He is expanding it.

Maybe after 176 churches, He is still teaching me what I said I believed from the beginning:

We are the church.

If I serve a grieving family with compassion, church happened.

If I sit beside someone who needs to be heard, church happened.

If I love someone when life is messy, church happened.

If I carry another person’s burden for a little while because theirs has become too heavy, church happened.

If I walk into somebody’s home and leave them feeling a little more loved, then I cannot think of a more meaningful sermon.

Paul tells us in Galatians 6:2 to “carry each other’s burdens,” and I think sometimes we read verses like that without considering what they actually look like in ordinary life. That may look like prayer, but sometimes it also looks like sitting at their kitchen table. Sometimes it looks like paperwork. Sometimes it looks like helping someone make difficult decisions. Sometimes it looks like listening while they tell you about the person they love. Sometimes it looks like simply staying present when another human being is walking through something painful.

That is ministry.

And maybe that is one of the biggest things God has been teaching me through this season. Ministry is not always what happens when somebody has a microphone. Sometimes ministry is what happens when nobody is watching.

I also pray that those of you who continue following this journey will still see Jesus in it, even though these church visits look different right now. I pray you understand that this was never supposed to be about collecting church numbers or checking buildings off a list. It has always been about following where God leads and giving Him the glory along the way.

And right now, He seems to be leading me into people’s lives.

What a responsibility that is.

What a church that can be.

Because when we cherish people, when we make time for them, when we listen, and when we serve, we are reflecting the love of Jesus.

And I cannot think of a better sermon than that.

Church #176 happened in a family’s home this week, and I walked away reminded once again that the church has never been confined to four walls. The church goes where hurting people are. The church serves. The church listens. The church loves.

Most importantly, the church looks like Jesus.

So cherish your people. Love them loudly and quietly. Thank God for them while they are sitting beside you.

Because life is a vapor, but love leaves fingerprints long after the moment has passed.

I cannot wait to see where the Holy Spirit leads next week.

Love you all,

Annie Stewart Lambert