Leaving a Gap
“Does God love *Tony?”
This is the rhetorical question I’ve asked myself many times since I said goodbye to my “honorary brother” in 2010.
Tony
In 2006 the military moved my family to a small town in the Midwest, where we met six-year-old Tony. His family – his single mom and two brothers – lived one block over. Maybe because his brothers were usually high and his mother often drunk, Tony was an outcast. One neighbor dad, after banning Tony from our block, justified himself by telling me Tony was “a little punk.”
My siblings and I made it clear that Tony was welcome in the *Phillips’ home, so he spent most of his free time with us. He and my brothers would ride bikes or build Legos together for hours. Tony gradually became so integrated into our family that we called him an “honorary Phillips.” He often stayed for dinner and even started attending church with us. My sister and I were with him when he prayed to be saved.
After four years in the Midwest, my dad retired from the military and got a job back on the East Coast. As a military family, we knew the drill: sell the house, pack everything into a moving truck, and say goodbye to another set of friends. But with Tony it was different. He’d become such a part of our family that it felt wrong to leave him behind.
I’ll never forget his forlorn posture as we hugged him goodbye. We felt like we were abandoning him. But Tony wasn’t really a Phillips, so we couldn’t take him with us.
When People Need Us
It’s always hard when a transition takes us away from friends or family. But my hardest goodbyes have been to people I’m leaving who don’t have strong support systems. Like the summer I worked at a camp and several of my campers professed faith before going home to unsaved families, and at the end of my college internship, when I said goodbye to the refugee family I’d just grown attached to. And now, as I transition out of graduate school and leave behind a dear friend to face the challenges of immigration alone.
The questions press on my heart: Who will love these people when I’m gone? Who will live out the gospel for them? Who will value them as people, not mere evangelistic projects?
Life in Messiah’s ministry often involves brief exchanges with Jewish people: a conversation on the street, a week of hosting at a hostel, a month-long trip to Israel. These encounters have mutual impact, but often we only get to see the lasting effect on ourselves. We’re left wondering what these precious people will do with the gospel they’ve just heard.
It’s even harder to part with a long-term friend. Especially when we’ve been one of the primary people in their life, we can feel fearful about who will take our place. It’s not that people need us, specifically. But we’ve been positioned to see their needs and support them in vital ways. It can be heart-wrenching to leave a gap and not know who will fill it.
Who First Loved Us?
Amidst these difficult farewells, it’s vital to remember Who our love comes from. 1 John 4:7 tells us, “Love is from God.” A few verses later John reminds us, “We love, because He first loved us” (1 John 4:19).
Acts 20 describes Paul’s farewell to the elders of the Ephesian church. Paul said he would likely never see them again, and warned, “After my departure savage wolves will come in among you, not sparing the flock” (verse 29). Paul knew he was leaving the church in a vulnerable position, but God was calling him to move on. Paul obeyed, leaving the elders with these words: “Now I entrust you to God and to the word of His grace, which is able to build you up and to give you the inheritance among all those who are sanctified” (Acts 20:32). Paul knew that God would continue to care for the Ephesian church when he was gone.
Like Paul, we can entrust those we love to God, who is able to surround them with believing friends and soften their hearts to the gospel. Though we must leave, He remains.
Conclusion
I haven’t seen Tony since my family left his hometown in 2010. I still pray for him and wonder if his burgeoning faith survived. Sometimes I question why God moved us away when Tony seemed to need us so much. That’s when I ask myself the pointed question: “Does God love Tony?”
Because I know the answer is yes. God loves Tony. God is still in Tony’s life. God knows Tony’s needs – and He alone can provide for them.
Written by Miriam, Life in Messiah Communications Coordinator
1. Have you ever had to say goodbye to someone who seemed to need you? How does it change your perspective to consider that God is the source of all the love and support you were able to provide – and He remains in that person’s life?
2. Please pray with us for the Jewish people whom Life in Messiah staff encounter in ministry. Pray with us that God will use these meetings – from the briefest conversations to the longest friendships – to bring precious hearts to salvation.
*In order to protect our staff and the individuals we work with, we periodically alter names and faces in our publications.