Sarah Harris delivered this reflection at St. Columba’s, Boothbay Harbor’s service for Youth Sunday on May 24, 2026, to mark her graduation from Boothbay Region High School. The valedictorian of her class, she will attend Yale University in the fall.
It’s strange knowing this chapter of my life—my high school career, my time here in Boothbay Harbor—is ending. For so long, St. Columba’s Church has been part of my routine and part of who I am. Some of my earliest memories are connected to this place. And now, somehow, I stand here on the edge of something new.
When I was thinking about what to say today, I kept coming back to a story: the story of Jairus’s daughter and the woman who had been bleeding for 12 years. Jairus comes to Jesus, desperate for help because his daughter is dying. Jesus agrees to go with him, but on His way, a massive crowd pressed in around them. A woman who had suffered from internal bleeding for 12 years touched Jesus’ cloak and was instantly healed. And while Jesus has paused, helping and speaking to her, Jairus receives the news: “Your daughter is dead.” “It’s over.” “Jesus was too late.”
And I think that feeling is something almost everyone experiences at some point in life. Not necessarily physically or in such an extreme way, but emotionally. The feeling of praying for something and not getting an answer when you hoped you would, watching God bless other people while you’re still waiting. Wondering why it seems like your life is moving slower than everyone else’s.
I spent years wrestling with that feeling. Because when you’re younger, you imagine faith as something simple. You think if you pray enough, trust enough, and do all the right things, life will always make sense.
But as I got older, I realized faith is not about understanding what God is doing. Faith is continuing to trust Him when you don’t understand anything at all. There were times when I felt really confident in myself and in my future. If you had asked 10-year-old Sarah, she would have told you she’d be the president by now. And there were other times where I didn’t. If you had asked 14-year-old Sarah, she would have told you she just wanted to pass ninth grade. There were moments where I felt excited about what was ahead, or when I felt completely overwhelmed by it.
There were prayers I wanted answered immediately: “Please let me pass this test.” “I hope I hit this high note.” And situations I wanted fixed immediately: “Please don’t let my sister find out I scratched her car . . .” Sorry, Lilley!
But I had to learn life does not move according to my timing. I think that’s why this story means so much to me now. Because while Jairus is watching Jesus stop for somebody else, I can only imagine what he was thinking. “Jesus, what about me?” “What about my daughter?” “Why are You stopping when I needed You now?”
It’s challenging to see other people succeeding, finding happiness, getting opportunities, seeming so sure of who they are and where they’re going.
Meanwhile, you’re still trying to figure yourself out. And it can feel like God is moving for everybody else while you’re still waiting for your turn. But one thing I’ve learned during my years at St. Columba’s Church is this: Just because God is working in someone else’s life does not mean He forgot about yours. Jesus stopping to heal the woman was never proof that He abandoned Jairus. He was still on His way. And I think that’s something I needed to learn over these years. God’s silence is not abandonment, and delay is not the end of the story.
Looking back now, I realize there were so many moments where God was still carrying me even when I didn’t recognize it at the time. Sometimes through people and conversations after church or by hearing exactly the right message on exactly the right Sunday.
Church became one of the few places where I felt reminded that I didn’t have to figure everything out alone. A place where faith was planted in me, little by little, over the years. This place holds pieces of who I became. I see myself reciting the Lord’s prayer, putting on plays about Abraham Lincoln, and singing songs from whatever musical performance I was in that week for the whole congregation. I see myself carrying small animals down the aisle to the manger on Christmas Eve. I see myself encouraging my best friends to come to church with me. I see a version of myself who slowly learned what faith actually means.
If I’ve learned anything from this story, it’s that faith is not always certainty. Jairus still followed Jesus even after hearing the worst possible news. Even after people laughed or doubted Jesus. Part of him was probably still confused and heartbroken. But he kept walking with Jesus anyway. That’s what faith looks like: continuing to walk with God even when you don’t understand where He’s leading you.
As I leave this stage of my life and step into another, I hope I remember this story when life feels uncertain. Because what looked hopeless to everybody else was still possible for Jesus. And maybe there will be moments where things feel delayed, confusing, or broken. Moments where we wonder if God came too late. But God is never absent from our story. Even when we cannot yet see what He is doing.
Finally, I just want to say thank you. Thank you to the pastors, leaders, parents, mentors, teachers, and church family who helped raise me. Thank you for every prayer. Every conversation. Every lesson. Every encouragement. Every smile.
No matter where my life goes next, I feel comfort in knowing that I will always belong at St. Columba’s Church. And I hope that as I move forward, I hold on to faith even when it feels like God is moving more slowly than I hoped. Because sometimes the greatest lesson faith teaches us is this: What feels like “too late” to us is still perfectly on time for God.
We welcome reflections delivered at our churches, particularly those by young people! Email submissions to Director of Communications and Engagement Susan Sherrill Axelrod.