“…’teaching them to hold tight to all the directives I’ve given to you. And, listen, I’m with you every single day, all the way to the consummation of this age'” (Matthew 28.20).
It’s storybook, romantic language. It’s what a lover says to their beloved when they are about to embark on a long and dangerous journey. “I’ll always be with you” are words spoken before death steals one away from the other. They’re words of comfort that a part of those we love remains with us no matter how time and space may pull us apart.
Except, in this moment, Jesus means this literally. Unlike we spatially and temporally limited humans, he will be with his friends and those they bring into relationship with him until all things are redeemed.
In a season of surprises, this is one the disciples who will be left standing there with their mouths hanging open took the longest to realize. In the wake of their friend leaving, I can’t imagine they realized that these words, this promise wasn’t just that his memory would endure but that Jesus’ presence would, in ways they might never understand, be nearer to them than he ever was physically.
As they began, in the coming years, to disperse throughout Europe and Africa they each would be surprised, again and again, to find that their friend did not feel far gone but, as he’d said, right there with them. Each of them, miles and miles from each other, would feel this. And those they’d introduced to their friend could feel it as well.
Which leaves us here, with you and me reminded of these words and the reality behind them. That, in ways I don’t understand, this person who is alive and yet out of sight is closer than anyone else, even someone held in my embrace. Somehow, he remains near even when I can’t sense or feel it.
And will be, until all things are made new.
Jesus, beloved friend, I do not grasp how close you are to me every moment of every day. As I move into a new season, may I make space in the days ahead to become aware, just for a moment, of your presence.