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I left both.

“The good news,” Pastor Jack says, “is Jesus didn’t come for the whitewashed tombs.”

He scans the room. “He came for the people who know they’re empty and are honest enough to admit it. Transparency over perfection. Every single time.”

Around me people are taking notes.

Highlighting Bibles.

Nodding.

I simply listen.

“Here’s what I want to close with.” He sets his Bible on a stool at the edge of the stage. “I heard someone say something years ago that I’ve never forgotten. Delayed obedience is disobedience.”

I look down at my hands.

“Obedience isn’t a feeling. It’s a decision. You don’t wait until you feel ready. You don’t wait until people stop disappointing you. You don’t wait until the church earns your trust. You don’t wait until fear disappears.” He pauses. “You simply move. And trust that God is already there.”

Nobody around me moves.

Nobody coughs.

Nobody checks their phone.

The room hangs on every word.

“So here’s my challenge.”

He bows his head and I see his lips moving, as if he is saying a silent prayer, before he looks back out to his congregation.

“Six months. That’s all. Show up every Sunday for six months, and join a community. Not because we need more people in seats, but because you were never designed to do this alone.” He gestures across the room. “Find people in your season of life. Let them know the real version of you. Not the version you’ve prepared for public consumption. We have enough polished Christians. What we need are honest ones.”

Community is not optional.

It is how this works, even though I spent years trying to prove otherwise.

Harper and Micah moved away.

Gray and Ivy have Charlie now.

Life keeps moving.

Yet mine mostly stays the same.

Work.

Apartment.

Dinner.

Repeat.

I tell myself I like the quiet. Some days I even believe it.

But deep down I know I am missing something.

“Six months,” Pastor Jack says one last time. “See what God does.”