spaces between people

If you're a regular church-goer, you're probably familiar with this unwritten yet unavoidable tradition: the post-service loitering. I've observed this through-line at every church I've attended, regardless of the size, denomination, or demographic make-up — people love to loiter.

Over many years, I have grown fond of the post-service frenzy — the cheerful hellos and hugs and how-are-yous scattered like colorful wildflowers. Yet, I'm sure we've all experienced that moment when all the scripted questions — what's your name, what's your major? — run out, and a pause just a breath too long follows.

For some, these awkward moments are easy to brush off; for others they are stubborn memories that fester and seed dread for the next social event. I admit I come to you from the latter group: I've struggled a lot with social anxiety throughout my high school and college years. Sunday mornings were steeped in a simmering anxiousness — anticipation constricting my throat as we all filed out of the sanctuary, hands sweaty and thoughts frantic as people swarmed and coalesced in different circles. Failed interactions brought a sense of defeat that bled deeply into my self-esteem, and though I recognized these thought patterns as unsustainable, I was stuck, unable to escape.

Think about this: there's an undeniable shift that occurs when another person enters the room. This is the space between people — suddenly there are two points instead of one; there is distance and potential for interaction; there is perception, sensitivity, and self-consciousness. We're newly aware of our own physicality and personality in light of the person's presence and perspective, which imbues the space with significance.

I observe that these spaces exist everywhere: between students studying at the library, over the mugs of friends at a cafe. Even amidst the hubbub of the loitering crowd after service, these spaces are pressed up against each other as people form circles of two or three.

And sometimes that space is awkward, pockmarked with darting eyes and stilting silences; sometimes it is cold because of strife or judgement or misunderstanding. But I firmly believe that this space is an opportunity to converse, rebuke, forgive, and most importantly, to choose love.

Whether or not you find these experiences relatable, my hope is to bring into focus the existence of these spaces and their potential to facilitate love, especially for all my awkward friends out there. I don't claim to have everything figured out; if anything, I've only been learning how much more I have to grow. But in numerous highs and lows, God has taught me how to love others despite fears and anxieties; I hope to share and encourage you in that today.

I. Substantial silence

On more occasions than I'm willing to admit, I've caught myself hyper-fixating on the flow of a conversation, sometimes to the point that I accidentally tune out what the other person is saying. I'm thinking about well-timed hmm's, appropriate facial expressions, and what I'll ask or say to fill the next pause. This preoccupation stemmed from a fear of silence, and I constantly worried that any awkwardness would leave a negative impression of me and what I represent (e.g. my church or Christ).

This line of thinking, while considerate, ironically contradicted the goal of the dialogue, which is to exchange information and build rapport. It was arguably self-indulgent too, as I worried more about appearing attentive than really listening to what my conversation partner had to say. This kind of self-focus in conversation can come in many forms, whether it's overthinking that new pimple that everyone must be noticing or avoiding genuine sharing for the sake of seeming composed and put-together.

So I ask: In conversation, to what extent are you thinking about yourself, and to what extent thinking about the other? Apostle Paul's instruction to the Philippians comes to mind, as he says, “in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”¹ With this standard in mind, I encourage you to examine your posture in future conversations and insist on keeping the other person at the forefront of your thoughts.

A way to practice this intentionality is to (1) consider the purpose of silence in conversation and (2): embraceit. I mentioned that I used to avoid silences at all costs because they signified awkwardness and failure, and they allowed anxieties to intrude and fester as we spoke. But experience has shown me that silences give time to think and allow for more effective, meaningful conversation. I'm grateful to have learned from friends who dwell deliberately in silence before speaking, to ensure the truth and conviction of the words they speak.

Anxiousness can make our minds grow hot and our words run quickly; I'd find myself leaping frantically from one topic to the next to outrun any awkward silences. But I encourage you to slow down, allow for pauses and thought, and see how silence invites richness and authenticity into a dialogue.

Now, broadening the scope a bit from silences within conversation, we can also observe spaces that are entirely characterized by silence. Words are often constructive, but they can also clutter, and the space between people doesn't always have to be filled with speech — that was a misconception I had to deliberately overwrite in my mind. Silence allows for actions, especially in the form of hospitality: “Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth.”² And this can be simple: a quiet favor, a cooked meal, a comforting hug.

So, consider what the other person needs in the moment — at times, making conversation, especially routine small talk, is only another tax on a long day, and silent yet amicable company is preferred. At others, what's needed is the distraction of talk, a cheerful exchange of notable events from the day. Take into account your needs and theirs to find the best approach; this posture of humility will overcome much awkwardness and discomfort. And whether the space is filled with words or actions or silence, it will be substantial, because it is a vehicle of your love.

II. Prayerful preparation

Now, embracing silence is a critical and nontrivial step, but we must also address the conversation itself — what do we talk about, how do we avoid awkwardness, and how can we initiate and conduct deep and meaningful conversations?

For those initial moments when we strike up a conversation, I offer a few solutions (to be taken with a grain of salt):

• Recall something about the person and use it as a lead-in; for instance, how is this club going, how was that exam you were studying for? This does require a few opportunities to gather information first, but over time, as shared history accumulates, this gets easier and easier.
• When the well-traveled conversation topics (courses, hobbies, weather, upcoming plans) run out, consider branching into more interesting, unscripted questions such as “what has been bringing you joy lately?”, “what is something that inspires you?”, or “what is something you are proud of?”
• For planned meetups (especially one-on-ones), I sometimes prepare a list of questions I might want to ask. This way, I won't be distracted by brainstorming during our conversation, and it's a good exercise to consider what I wanted to talk about with this person, what they might be seeking in our conversation, and how to make the time most worthwhile for both of us.

This last point (3), when taken into a spiritual context, is the heart of prayerful preparation. What is prayer, after all? It's intentional thought and a petition for someone's well-being. We consider how they are reallydoing and what they may be struggling with. When we pray, we intercede and bring those requests to God, knowing that He is solely sufficient to comfort, heal, and redeem their pain and suffering — prayer is fundamentally an act of love. As such, Apostle Paul is always praying in gratitude and joy for his fellow saints, saying “I remember you constantly in my prayers night and day. As I remember your tears, I long to see you, that I may be filled with joy.”³By praying, we demonstrate our care for others in private and prepare our hearts to love them in public. Then, our next conversation is driven not by courtesy or happenstance, but a sincere concern for our brother or sister's well-being.

I'll add a final note on prayer requests — if you've been to a Bible study or church gathering, you might have been asked your prayer requests before. From a worldly perspective, it might seem strange or inconsequential — can a few uttered words really change anything in my life? But the practice of sharing prayer requests isn't merely a courtesy or Christianese for asking, “how are you?” Rather, the question “how can I pray for you?” carries a genuine belief that prayer has miracle-working power and can invoke divine change in others' lives. This is why Apostle James exhorts us to “pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.”⁴So I urge you not to neglect or downplay the power of prayer, but continue praying with conviction, in fear of the Lord, out of love for the people of God's kingdom.

III. Welcome in worship

This last section comes more as a challenge than a word of advice. I'll be frank in asking: how often do you invite God into your conversations? If we are like cups filled to the brim, what spills out in our everyday interactions?

For some of you, reflections on faith and excitement about Christ come readily to your lips — I've been so encouraged by you! But if that's the case, I'll probe a bit deeper — are you similarly bold across all conversations with both Christian and non-Christian friends? For others, our spiritual lives rarely enter our conversations, especially outside religious contexts. This is unsurprising: we naturally adapt to situational social norms as a means of survival. It's an unfortunate truth that faith-related conversations have become a kind of social taboo, and we tend to conform to “safe” conversation topics in response.

I return again to Apostle Paul's teachings for instruction and encouragement. He tells us to “present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind.”⁵ This excerpt deserves a much deeper study, but two applications immediately stand out:

(1) We are called to present our entire lives as spiritual sacrifices, given up in worship to Him. If we truly fear God, then we cannotcompartmentalize him to a small drawer in our lives or a block in our calendar. Rather, He is the entire dresser that holds all part of our lives — and this includes our conversations and our daily conduct. (2) As such, we are called to be counter-cultural, not “conformed to this world,” and the transformation we are promised through Christ will empower us to do so. Certainly, bringing God into our conversations defies secular social norms and often brings discomfort, but “we must obey God rather than men”,⁶and there is no higher calling than total worship and the dedication of our conversational spaces to Him. And I'll share a final encouragement from Apostle Peter, who says it far better than I can: “Now who is there to harm you if you are zealous for what is good?... Have no fear of them, nor be troubled, but in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect, having a good conscience, so that, when you are slandered, those who revile your good behavior in Christ may be put to shame.”⁷ No argument can possibly undermine what we know to be true, and there is no shame in showing fervor for the Lord of our lives, so take heart!

Bringing this into the space between people, this is my observation: when we approach this space with love, we begin to see the other person not as a stranger or a fringe acquaintance or even merely fun company, but as a soul— suddenly, their spiritual well-being comes into focus and becomes urgently important to us.

Not every conversation needs to incorporate the gospel or even be spiritual in nature, but when you have gone through the motions of small talk and built rapport, I hope you recognize the opportunity to invite God into the conversation.

With fellow believers, there are many easy ins, for instance, “how have you been doing spiritually?” or “who is God to you right now?” Oftentimes, all it takes is a prompt to bring the conversation into a more spiritual space. For non-believing friends, navigating toward faith or spirituality is much trickier, especially when their attitude towards religion is unknown to us. Questions like “do you believe in an afterlife?” or “do you think you're a good person?” work well in an evangelistic context, but in day-to-day conversation, they're usually met with dismissal or repulsion. Still, there are ways to discuss our spiritual lives that are non-intrusive and more likely to inspire natural intrigue. We can include church in recaps of our weekend plans, because service was not just non-obligatory, but it was enjoyableand lifegiving. We can make space to pray before meals, because properly honoring and thanking God for His provision is worth the social discomfort. We can wear our identity in Christ proudly, because we are new creations in him, and that should show in our actions, manner of speech, conduct, and daily joy.

Sometimes this will cock a head, prompt a “why?”, and in that moment take holdof the chance to speak about Him. Remember, there is a soul at stake; I hope there is some gravity to that. One of the most loving things we can do is to care for others' spiritual well-being, and there is no greater gift than the good news of Christ's healing power. Conversations are a space where we can exchange these acts of love, so let us strive to invite God in and turn these moments into places of worship.

–

At a recent communion service, after receiving the bread and cup, I returned to my seat to wait for our congregation to take the elements together. I usually pray through the interim, but this time my gaze was drawn up toward the communion table, where our church members lined up to receive their elements one by one. I watched our senior pastor, freshly returned from a six-month sabbatical, greet each member with radiant joy, the image of fatherly love and sweet reconciliation. My eyes traveled down the line of people, all former strangers, many now known to me — their quirks and quips and affections like bright patches of sunlight in my life.

My cup overflows.⁸

I'm always moved by this image of the early church: “they devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers… All who believed were together and had all things in common.”⁹ “Fellowship” is translated from the Greek word koinonia, which describes a deeply established, Christ-centered bond that derives from our individual fellowship with Christ.¹⁰ Their commonality is not about shared interests and experiences, but walking together in a life fully devoted to loving God and loving people.

And so it is today: despite my anxieties and frequent cowardice in social interactions, and despite my own brokenness and that of those around me, God still allowed me to experience fellowship, community, and love. He gifted me a beautiful church community, which is a broken body made perfect in Christ, for “love covers a multitude of sins.”¹¹ If He can do this for me, He can do it for you too.

Each day, we repeatedly encounter spaces between people as we see friends, attend classes, and share meals. Each of these encounters presents an opportunity to fill that space with intentionality, be it silence, words, or worship. This may mean stepping outside of our comfort zone to talk to newcomers when we'd rather stick with our comfort people, or initiating conversations about faith when resistance is expected. It can be intimidating, but I urge you to think of this space as a gift: it's the arena where we see God's mighty hand at work.

So the next time you're immersed in the post-church loitering frenzy or in other ways confronted by the space between people, I pray that you see Spirit at work in these spaces. These aren't just moments of horizontal, human connection, but a space where His body is being built up: “You are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, … Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord.”¹²