Last week, we traveled to Hilton Head for Tom’s dad’s memorial. It was a sacred and fun time… but let me set the stage: 20 family members. In one house. Some I’d never spent time with before.
For multiple days.
I’m an only child.
So, while I was genuinely excited about being with Tom’s brother, his wife, and their kids (whom I adore), I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t also a little knot in my stomach.
You know that blend of “this could be so great” and “this might be a lot”? Yeah, that.
Before we even pulled in the driveway, Tom gave me one piece of advice:
“No matter what you do, just don’t disappear.”
I knew what he meant. When my energy has expired, I bail.
Not an admirable quality, but over the years I’ve learned some limits and boundaries.
Yet, as the hours unfolded, I found myself recalling his words more than once. When the house got loud, when the conversations got layered and layered again, when I needed a little breather, the temptation to sneak away quietly was real.
Disappearing—fleeing—felt like a much easier option than staying present. But his advice kept me grounded.
And now, here we are—Wednesday of Holy Week. The day the Gospel writers quietly mark with betrayal.
Judas has had enough.
Of what, we’re not entirely sure.
Maybe it was Jesus’ refusal to lead a political uprising.
Maybe it was frustration. Disappointment.
A slow unraveling of expectations that turned into bitterness (That ever happened to you???)
Whatever the reason, Judas leans in close to the chief priests and asks the question:
“What will you give me if I hand him over to you?”
(Matthew 26:15)
And just like that… he begins to flee.
He stays close in body but leaves in spirit. The deal is struck. The internal distance becomes external betrayal.
And Jesus? Jesus knows. He washes Judas’ feet anyway.
Here’s the honest part: I think we’ve all had Spy Wednesday moments.
Moments where staying present felt too hard.
Moments where the call to follow felt too costly.
Moments where disappearing seemed like the only thing that made sense.
But what if we paused right here, in the middle of this Holy Week, and asked:
Are we preparing to follow Jesus, or are we quietly fleeing?
Following isn’t always grand. Sometimes it’s just… not disappearing.
It’s staying at the table.
It’s showing up for the conversation.
It’s staying rooted in love when fear or fatigue tries to carry us off.
I didn’t disappear in Hilton Head. I stayed. I laughed. I listened. I helped. I learned. Today, a few days after our return, I had the chance to reconnect with family that was there last week. I was reminded of the beauty that comes when we don’t flee.
And while Hilton Head wasn’t always easy, it was real. It was connection. It was presence.
This Holy Week, Jesus isn’t asking for perfection. He’s just asking us to stay close.
Even when it’s messy.
Even when we’re overwhelmed.
Even when betrayal seems easier than bravery.
So today—will you follow… or will you flee?
Grace and Peace,
Andrea