The Gift of Presence
- Jefferson Furtado
- Oct 25, 2025
- 5 min read
Sermon Text: Hebrews 10:19–25
Today, we’re continuing our journey through this series called Rooted in Discipleship.
In week 1, we talked about being planted by grace—that our life with God begins not with effort, but with God’s initiative.
In week 2, Rev. Linda reminded us that prayer is how we remain connected to God, our source of grace.
And today, we turn to another essential vow of discipleship: presence.
Presence is more than attendance. It is showing up, with our whole selves, not only for worship, but also for one another, and for the movement of God in our midst, through the power of the Holy Spirit.
I may have shared before that deep down, I’m really an introvert who has learned to live in an extroverted world.
As a child I was painfully shy, terrified of public speaking, or drawing any public attention to myself. In school, I was never the one raising my hand to answer questions, or for that matter, to ask questions, or volunteer for anything. As my oldest sister recently reminded me, the red ink from my middle and high school transcripts affirm the wisdom of that approach. As a rule, I preferred to stay in the background, to observe rather than engage.
But over the years, I’ve learned something: the moments of greatest transformation in my life didn’t happen when I hid, but when I showed up, when I risked being present. By the time I was sixteen something was beginning to happen within me. I became deeply involved in the life of my local church, in the life of my district, served on the steering committee of the conference youth team, got a job after school, and even started dating. Looking back, I can certainly say it was the work of the Spirit, but it was also the encouragement of my community, the companionship of dear friends, and the certainty that whatever I was doing, I was never alone.
I know that presence is not easy. It costs us something: time, attention, vulnerability. Yet it is the space where God meets us and where grace grows. In times of challenge, frustration, and uncertainty, there is always a temptation to pull away from community, to grow in distrust, to retreat to our safe spaces. But the call of faith bids us to remain engaged, connected, and attentive to what God is doing in and around us.
Our text for the day speaks about some of these very realities.
Much mystery surrounds the Book of Hebrews.
We call it a letter, but it’s more accurately described as a sermon sent in letter form. For centuries many assumed that the Apostle Paul wrote the Letter to the Hebrews, but scholars now note that “too much of Hebrews is unlike Paul’s letters, and too much of what is typical in Paul’s letters is missing.”
Martin Luther proposed that the author might be Apollos—the eloquent Alexandrian preacher we meet in Acts 18. Whoever the writer was, one thing is clear: this was a pastor addressing a weary congregation.
This community was struggling. Some had grown discouraged; some were facing persecution; others were simply drifting away. Their gatherings had become irregular. Their confidence in Christ was wavering.
So this pastor writes not to scold, but to encourage: to remind them that their hope rests not on human strength but on what Christ has already accomplished.
Listen again to how the passage begins:
“We have confidence to enter the holy of holies by the blood of Jesus… through a new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his body.”
Under the old covenant, only the high priest could enter the Holy of Holies—and only once a year. The rest of the people stood at a distance. But now, through Christ, the curtain has been torn open. The barrier between God and humanity has been removed.
We don’t come trembling in fear—we come boldly, because the One who calls us is faithful.
“Therefore, let us draw near with a genuine heart… let us hold fast to our confession… and let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds.”
This is not a call to isolation but to community.
Faith was never meant to be a solo project.
And then comes the heart of the passage:
“Do not stop meeting together, as some have gotten into the habit of doing, but encourage one another, especially as you see the day approaching.”
The writer isn’t simply saying, “Go to church.”
He’s saying, “Show up—for one another.”
Presence here is more than attendance. It is mutual participation in grace.
It’s being fully here—body, mind, and spirit—so that together we might “spark love and good deeds.”
The Message puts it beautifully:
“Let’s see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out.”
That’s a picture of the church at its best—creative, connected, present to God and to one another.
John Wesley would have loved this passage. Early Methodists were often called “societies” or “bands”—small gatherings where people watched over one another in love.
Wesley insisted that “the gospel of Christ knows no religion but social; no holiness but social holiness.” In other words, grace grows in relationship.
To be present is to make room for grace to flow between us.
When we gather for worship, pray in small groups, or serve in mission, we’re doing more than filling a calendar—we’re cultivating communion with God and with each other.
We live in a culture of isolation. We can be hyper-connected online and still profoundly alone. Attendance everywhere is down—churches, civic groups, even family dinners.
But Hebrews calls us back to something ancient and life-giving: the sacred rhythm of gathering.
When we show up for worship, we are declaring that God is worth our time.
When we show up for one another—in grief, in joy, in service—we are declaring that people are worth our presence.
When we show up for the world—in acts of justice and compassion—we are declaring that love is worth the effort.
Friends, I know it’s not always easy. There are weeks when life feels too heavy, when worship feels optional, when showing up feels costly. But presence is where transformation happens.
When you show up, you create space for someone else’s faith to grow.
When you sing, someone who came in silence finds courage to lift their voice.
When you serve, someone discovers the hands of Christ reaching out to them.
Your presence matters. It changes the spiritual climate of this community.
So, as we continue in this Rooted in Discipleship journey, let’s hear the invitation of Hebrews:
Draw near to God with a genuine heart.
Hold fast to hope without wavering.
Encourage one another to love and do good.
Presence is not passive. It’s an act of faith.
And when we show up—really show up—God shows up too.
“Let us not give up meeting together, but encourage one another—and all the more as we see the Day approaching.”
May we be a people who show up with our whole selves—rooted in grace, abiding in Christ, and present to the Spirit who is still at work among us.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
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