This post is for two women: the one who feels at home in the church, and the one who does not (scroll down if this is you).
To the woman who feels at home in the church:
I know you’re excited for tomorrow. I am too. There’s a special kind of joy that rises with Easter morning, when we come together to celebrate our risen King.
You’ve picked out your dress. I’ve chosen which hat to wear.
You know what’s on the menu for brunch—whether you’re heading out or hosting at home. You’ve extended invitations to neighbors, coworkers, and friends. You’re ready to rejoice in the most pivotal day on the Christian calendar.
He is risen! He is risen indeed. Our hearts overflow with praise.
You’ll arrive at church with a smile that reaches your eyes. Your steps will feel lighter, anchored in the unshakable hope that Christ bought for you with His own blood.
But before you take your seat tomorrow, I want to invite you to pause—and look around.
Look to the corners. The back rows. The quiet hallways that don’t see much foot traffic.
Because that’s where we need to go tomorrow.
It’s in those hidden spaces where you’ll find the women who aren’t sure they belong. They may have come because someone asked. Or out of tradition. Or obligation. Or because they’re grasping for a flicker of hope in a season of despair.
So go there.
Sit near the back. Stroll the less-traveled halls. Make eye contact. Offer a smile. Introduce yourself. Extend an invitation to sit beside you.
Make sure she knows there’s room for her. That she is seen.
Because when we see her, she’ll be reminded that Jesus does too.
Living like Jesus is the intentional pursuit of humanity. So love the corners of your church tomorrow. That’s what Jesus did—He sought the margins, the outsiders, the weary hearts hiding in the shadows. Let’s live like Him.
To the woman who doesn’t feel at home in the church:
I know tomorrow feels heavy.
Maybe you haven’t stepped into a sanctuary in years—or maybe ever. Maybe you’re going because it’s expected. Because your family asked. Because it’s Easter, and that’s what people do.
Or maybe, just maybe, you’re going because your life feels like it’s unraveling. Because the darkness is loud. Because you’re desperate for a glimpse of hope—and somehow, you sense Jesus whispering your name.
And so, with trembling courage, you’re preparing to walk through those church doors.
You’ll look for the corners. Keep your head down. Try not to be seen.
I know this, because I’ve been there.
But listen closely: look for the people who are looking for you.
Look for the gentle smiles, the kind eyes, the open seats, the warm words. These are the ones who remember what it felt like when Jesus found them in the shadows. They haven’t forgotten. They’re waiting for you.
And they know you are safe with Jesus.
He sees you—fully and completely. Chosen. Loved. Cherished. Worthy of the sacrifice He made on the cross.
And here’s the truth: none of us were worthy on our own. Not one. But Jesus didn’t come for the perfect. He came for the broken. He came for me. And He came for you.
He was determined to rescue you. And He still is.
I’m cheering you on tomorrow. I’m so proud of you for showing up—for daring to believe there might be more than your pain. More than your questions. More than your past.
Your Creator is already running toward you with open arms.
One Final Encouragement
To all of us—let’s go looking tomorrow.
Not just for a seat or a photo or a sermon that stirs our hearts. Let’s look for the people Jesus would look for: the ones in the hidden corners, the ones near the exit signs, the ones who think they don’t belong.
Scripture tells us Jesus left the 99 to find the one (Luke 15:4). He saw Zacchaeus in the tree when the crowd passed him by (Luke 19:1–10). He noticed the bleeding woman when no one else did (Mark 5:25–34). His earthly ministry was built on seeking out the overlooked.
Let’s do the same.
Be the person who notices. Be the one who goes first. Extend grace, kindness, and welcome in the quiet corners of your church.
You never know who might be looking for Jesus… and find Him through you.
With love and resurrection hope,
Heather
