The Ghosts Among Us

There are ghosts among us. They haunt the sanctuaries and halls of our churches. They cross our paths often unseen. When they are noticed, it is a glimpse, a shadow, a movement without a form. 

These ghosts were people once. They had dreams and hopes, they had form, they were solid. They had faces that smiled with warmth and eyes that glimmered with life. And that life gave them strength and form to embrace and and be embraced. But the fire that once burned inside of them has gone cold. Their body has become weak and broken and immaterial. Their eyes see life all around them, but their minds cannot conceive that the life is for them any longer. They have passed from living life, to merely existing among the living. 

Something happened to them along their way. Maybe they buried a loved one, and are drowning in their sorrow. Maybe the betrayal of a friend or a lover caused them to cast their dreams aside. Maybe they were struck down on the battlefield, and were left behind when they could not rise. Maybe the crushing weight of regret and guilt overcame them, and they lost all hope. 

Their voices have become as a whisper from a dry throat, unheard among the tumult of the living. Their vision is dimmed by the darkness slowly closing in. Eyes that once beheld the beauty and grandure of the sunset in the west, now can only see just beyond the next footstep. Tears that flowed in joy have been consumed by sorrow. Feet are broken and bruised, hands shake with fear, legs are unsteady, and the back is bent. Soon they will be gone, fading into nothing, overcome by their pain and sorrow and hopelessness. 

For now they haunt our churches. They sit beside us and pass among us. We give them bulletins and shake their hands. We will smile and ask “How are you?” for the thousandth time in our meaningless way. They continue to glide in and out unnoticed, uncared for, slowly vanishing with each passing Sunday. 

We will remember that they once existed, maybe even wondering what happened to them. We will say it is sad, but we will not mourn. We will say we wish we would have known, but will remain safe in our ignorance. We will say they should have asked for help, but not stop to listen. We will say it is a shame, but not feel ashamed. 

We will go on, because life goes on, for those who are living.

  

Until someone intentions to see them, catch them, find them and not let them slip away, they will haunt us. Unless someone determines to pick them up and carry them, bind their wounds, cover their shame, and dry their tears, they will continue to fade away. Without someone to restore their hope, to show them how to dream again, to lean in close, to listen to their whispers, to mourn with them, they will soon be gone, and it will be too late. For it is only the living who can help the dying.