Before the Band-Aid

John 17:20–26

Phrases that spoke to me today:
• "that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you"
• "that the world may believe that you sent me"
• "Father, they are your gift to me"
• "that the love with which you loved me may be in them and I in them"

Applying the Word to My Life:
I remember a day we were sacristans at church and were early to get everything ready for mass. One of the first things we do is check the tabernacle to make sure there will be enough hosts consecrated for everyone to receive. My youngest went to the sacristy to get the key, and I went to kneel and pray. I closed my eyes and could hear the people walking past to take their seats and get ready for mass. It was taking a while, but then I heard familiar footsteps. As my son approached I said "hi" and opened my eyes. My son looked at me and asked how I knew it was him. I said "I knew it was you by the sound of your footsteps."

That kind of knowing only comes from love. You do not learn someone's footsteps from a distance. You learn them by being present, paying attention, being close long enough that the way a person moves through the world becomes as familiar as their name.

Jesus is in the upper room. It is the night before everything — before the garden, before the arrest, before the cross. And in what may be his last unguarded moment, he prays. Not for himself. Not for strength for what is coming. He prays for us — for everyone who will come to believe through the word of the apostles. And what he asks for is unity. Not cooperation. Not tolerance. Unity modeled on the relationship between Father and Son. As you, Father, are in me and I in you, may they also be in us.

That is not a modest request. That is the intimacy of the Trinity extended to each of us and, through us, to the world. The knowing that the Father and Son have of each other — complete, unhurried, total — that is the standard Jesus holds up for us.

The love among disciples is not just a nice feature of the community. It is the argument. It is what makes the witness credible. That the world may believe that you sent me. When it is present, something in people recognizes it — the way you recognize a familiar footstep in a quiet room — not because it was announced, but because it is unmistakable. When it is absent, no words or actions can fill the gap.

Knowing all He is to suffer and all the ways we would fall short, Jesus keeps His focus on us. In that moment He calls us gifts from His Father. Father, they are your gift to me. Not a burden. Not a project. Jesus receives us the way my son arrived that morning — as someone who belongs, someone who is known, someone welcomed before a word is spoken.

That should change the way we think about each other. If we are gifts to Christ, then the person beside us in the pew is a gift too. Not an obligation. Not someone to be managed or tolerated or endured on the way to something else. A gift — given by the Father to the Son, and through the Son, to each other.

Somehow we can sense that love when it enters the room. When one of my kids is hurting — a skinned knee or the latest winter cold — comfort comes before Stacey and I ever say the first word or reach for the Band-Aid. When we recognize the gift in the other, an announcement is not necessary, that love is already written on our faces.

When that is the posture of our heart, unity becomes possible. But we talk a lot about what we believe while being less careful about what we make people feel. When ego enters — comparison, competition, grievances held long past their season — it fractures exactly what Jesus spent his last free moments praying for. And it does something worse than create conflict. It makes the witness unrecognizable. The love that was supposed to be unmistakable becomes indistinguishable from everything else the world already knows.

It's one thing to say that we love one another, but do the people around us feel it when we enter the room?

My Response for Today:
The next time I walk into a room today, I will pick one person and focus on appreciating them as true gift from God.