Sometimes a new word is needed — not to replace what we know, but to help us see it more clearly.
Withdom is one such word.
In this Easter reflection, I explore how the risen Jesus is made known not in power or distance, but in presence — walking with, staying with, and being with us wherever we are.
A few weeks ago, some of us met for conversation around the subject of finding our voice in worship.
There were so many of us that we had to break into small groups to get the best out of each other.
As we fed back into the larger group a phrase was coined which seemed to sum up the meaning of our conversation.
We were talking about how we enable the worship of the people of our churches and villages.
A voice of one of our shepherds came over loud and clear.
She had found that the most important thing in her work
was winning the trust of the sheep.
And she talked about how she did that.
By staying with them.
Not driving them. Not fixing them.
Staying with them until they found their own voice.
That opened our eyes to what we were exploring.
How do we enable the worship of the people of God
when so often we are led to believe that we have to be anything but ourselves?
It is by staying with people, as they are, that encourages people to be as they are.
And one good shepherd reminded us of another good shepherd,
who knows the voice of his sheep
and whose sheep know his voice.
And so, a word was born.
And we called that word … withdom.
Some of us weren’t so sure.
“Withdom is not a proper word,
it’s not in the dictionary.”
But we let it stand
because it carried our meaning.
It was never meant to find its way into the dictionary,
or become word of the year.
It was meant to lodge
in our theological imagination …
as just the way God is,
with us,
full of withdom,
and the way we’re called to be
with all those God loves
and chooses to be with,
all those blessed by withdom,
the least, the last, the lost.
We dared to imagine
the rule of the kingdom of God
being the withdom of God.
And once we begin to see it,
we notice it everywhere.
There is much withdom
in our readings today.
In our reading from Acts (Acts 2:14a, 36-41),
Peter stands with the eleven
and addresses the crowd who were with them.
Three thousand of them accepted his message
and joined the eleven –
not just agreeing with them,
but coming to be with them.
The gospel (Luke 24:13-35) puts us alongside two grief stricken disciples
as they make their way home.
They are joined by a stranger,
who walks with them,
in their grief,
through the valley of the shadow of death.
He is with them.
Nothing could stop him being with them.
Not their confusion.
Not their grief.
Not even their walking away.
He would not be separated
from their lived experience.
This is what he shows them
as he walked with them, stayed with them,
broke bread with them.
And this is the truth we are given –
that nothing … can separate us
from the love of God in Christ Jesus,
neither death nor life,
neither angels nor demons
neither the present nor the future,
nor any powers that be,
nothing in the whole of creation
can break the withdom of God. (Romans 8:38-39)
And if this is the withdom of God …
then this is the life we are called into.
Not to drive people.
Not to fix them.
But to be with them.
To stay with them
until they find their voice.
To be a people who can be trusted …
because we come alongside.
To be with those
who have been told they are not good enough …
and those who are walking away …
and those who don’t recognise hm.
This Easter morning – r evening –
the risen Jesus
comes alongside two disciples
who are confused,
disappointed,
walking away,
not good enough … perhaps in their own eyes.
And he is with them.
Nothing could stop him being with them.
So, if you have ever been led to believe
that you are not good enough …
that God is somehow not with you …
hear this story again.
The Lord is here.
His Spirit is with us.
Grits and Grains 