Those Are My People

Some thoughts do not arrive all at once. They come quietly. Like waves that keep returning to the shore. One after another. Never demanding attention, but somehow refusing to leave. This has been one of those thoughts.

It started with a phrase I have heard countless times:

“I’ve found my people.”

You know what someone means when they say it.

They have found the ones who understand them. The ones who know the story behind the story. The people around whom they can exhale and simply be themselves.

Sometimes we say the opposite too.

“Those aren’t my people.”

And I understand that just as easily. That familiar phrase followed me into my Bible. While I was searching Scripture, I realized I had begun searching my own heart. Somewhere between turning pages and tracing one verse into another, my study quietly became a prayer.

“Lord...do You know me as one of Your people?”

Not, do I go to church?

Not, do I know enough Scripture?

Not even, do other people recognize me as a Christian?

The question had become much more personal than that.

When You look at me, do You see someone who knows Your heart?

Then, my mind went to John.

Not John the fisherman.

Not John the son of Zebedee.

John, “the disciple whom Jesus loved.”

I have always loved that description, but this time I lingered there. Of all the ways John could have described himself, he kept returning to that one truth: He was loved by Jesus.

Then I pictured the table. The meal. The conversations around it. And John reclining beside Jesus, leaning back against Him. Close.

Not somewhere across the room.

Not lost in the crowd.

Close enough to speak softly. Close enough to listen. And I found myself wondering...Was he close enough to hear Jesus’ heartbeat?

Scripture does not tell us that, but it does tell us something else. When Jesus began speaking about the one who would betray Him, Peter wanted to know who He meant. He motioned to John, John leaned back toward Jesus and asked, and Jesus answered him.

That detail caught me. Peter wanted to know but John was close enough to ask. Suddenly several verses I had read before began gathering around that moment.

Job remembered “the friendly counsel of God” was over his tent.

David wrote “the secret of the Lord is with those who fear Him.”

Proverbs speaks of God’s confidential communion and secret counsel with the upright.

Abraham was called the friend of God.

Moses spoke with God face to face. 

And there was John. Leaning against Jesus. 

It felt like one invitation echoing through all of Scripture.

Come closer.

Not simply close enough to hear instructions. Close enough to know His heart. Maybe that is why John wrote so much about love. He did not only hear Jesus teach about love.

He became acquainted with Love.

He walked with Love.

He fellowshipped with Love.

He watched Love reach out and touch the leper.

He watched Love forgive the sinner.

He watched Love weep beside grieving friends.

He watched Love kneel and wash dusty feet.

And then he watched Love willingly lay down His own life. How could that not change him? How could he spend years walking beside Love and remain the same?

I've been sitting with that thought for several days now. 

"Lord, let me sit so closely to You that I know Your heart. Draw me under the shadow of Your wings. Hide me in Your secret place. Let me hear Your voice, recognize Your whisper, and become so familiar with Your heart that I begin to love what You love."

I do want to hear His voice. I want to recognize His whisper because Jesus never whispers to us simply so we can keep it to ourselves. He whispers into our hearts so deeply that, when we speak, we echo Him.

Jesus said, "What I whisper in your ear, proclaim from the housetops."

Those words feel different to me now.

The whisper comes first.

Then the rooftop.

The secret place before the public place. Listening before speaking.

The whispers are intimacy. The rooftops are ministry.

Jesus invites us into the secret place, not so we can remain there, but so that when we step into the world, we aren't merely sharing our own thoughts—we're echoing His heart.

And isn't that exactly what He asked of Peter after the resurrection? He didn't begin with Peter's assignment. He began with Peter's heart.

"Do you love Me?"

Three times.

And every time Peter answered yes, Jesus replied,

"Feed My sheep."

My sheep. 

It struck me that Jesus restored Peter's heart before He entrusted him with His people. Relationship before responsibility. Intimacy before ministry. The secret place before the public place.

There it was again. His people.

Maybe this is what I had been searching for all along.

God does not draw us near simply for the joy of being near. He draws us near so His heart becomes familiar to us until, little by little, our hearts begin to look like His.

He loves us so deeply that we begin learning how to love like Him.

He whispers so we will have something worth saying.

He fills us so we can pour out. 

Nothing He gives us is meant to end with us.

John knew Love, and then wrote about Love.

Peter loved Jesus, and then was told to care for the people Jesus loved.

Abraham was blessed, and through him the nations would be blessed.

Moses stood in God’s presence, and then walked back down the mountain to lead His people.

The secret place was never selfish. It was preparation.

The more I sit with all of this, the more my prayer has become wonderfully simple.

“Lord...let me be one of Your people.”

Let Your heart shape mine.

Let me love what You love.

Let me carry what You whisper.

Let me feed Your sheep.

Let me pour out what You have poured into me.

Because this has never been about us. It has always been about Him.

And maybe...

just maybe...

He'll look upon my life...

smile, 

and say,

"She's one of mine."

I Want to Walk on the Water