PRINCE ALBERT — A couple of years ago, I was in Fredericton, N.B., and took the opportunity to meet up with a few people who had worked in our diocese.
One of the people I spent some time with was Shawn Branch. He was the youth minister in 2005 and 2006. When he left our diocese, he went to work at the National Church Army office, he married and divorced and now works for the Diocese of Fredericton as director of mission and ministry supporting the bishop’s vision for vibrant, mission-focused communities.
He oversees clergy and lay formation, vocational discernments, leadership development, and parish health. In November 2025, he was appointed canon of Christ Church Cathedral, Fredericton.
He also offers leadership and vocational coaching for ministry and non-profit leaders through a website called Stuck out on a Limb?
As editor of the Saskatchewan Anglican, I receive all the papers across the country every month. When looking through the New Brunswick paper I noticed a column entitled ‘Along the Way’ (with Shawn Branch). I asked Giselle McKnight, the editor, if I could copy it into the Sask. Anglican. She checked with Shawn and she said that he replied, “Anything for Mary.”
Showing up when it’s awkward
By Canon Shawn Branch
I am sure that we’ve all had moments where we felt the nudge to reach out, speak up, or step in, but just didn’t.
Maybe it was a neighbour going through something, and you weren’t sure what to say. Maybe it was a tense moment at work, or around the family dinner table, and you stayed quiet to avoid stirring things up.
Or maybe you spotted someone at church who looked pained or burdened, and you hesitated, unsure of how to begin.
Sometimes the hardest part of living our faith is showing up when it’s awkward. Not when everything is planned and predictable, not when we have the right words or the perfect thing to offer, but in the messy, uncertain moments where we sense that presence matters more than perfection.
We live in a time when many are nervous about saying the wrong thing. We worry about overstepping, offending, or just not knowing how to handle a situation well. And so, without meaning to, we pull back. We stay polite. We play it safe. We wait for someone else to take the first step.
But the gospel doesn’t call us to play it safe.
Jesus consistently moved toward awkwardness, not away from it. He approached people others avoided. He noticed the ones who were easy to overlook. He engaged in difficult conversations and asked honest questions.
And through it all, He offered connection, not performance. There’s nothing in the life of Jesus that suggests we need to have things figured out before we step toward others. He didn’t lead with polished scripts; He led with compassion.
Part of St Paul’s letter to the Romans keeps coming to mind: “Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep” (12:15).
It sounds simple, but it’s not always easy. It requires us to enter someone else’s experience, to walk into their joy or pain without needing to fix it, solve it, or sanitize it. Just to be there. And that kind of presence? It can feel vulnerable. It opens us up to uncertainty. We might not
say the right thing. We might not get it all right.
But we’re not called to perfection. We’re called to love.
I recently heard someone describe a friend who had shown up for them in a difficult time. They said, “She didn’t have the answers. But she didn’t flinch. And that was enough.”
What a beautiful image of how love can work in real life: being present. The older I get, the more I realize that most people aren’t looking for someone to rescue them. They’re looking for someone who won’t look away — someone willing to stay present even when things are hard, unclear or uncomfortable.
This month, I invite you to reflect on where you might be holding back, not from indifference, but from discomfort.
Is there someone you’ve been avoiding reaching out to, simply because you’re not sure what to say? Is there a situation in your life where you’ve felt a nudge to check in, offer support, or just be present, but you haven’t yet, because … well, it might be awkward? What might it look like to show up anyway — to say, “I’ve been thinking of you” or “I don’t know what to say, but I’m here.”
What might it look like to start the conversation, or risk the silence, to lean in with kindness, rather than waiting for things to feel comfortable?
Maybe there’s someone in your life who’s grieving and you’re afraid to say the wrong thing. Maybe it’s someone you disagree with, and it feels easier to avoid them altogether. Maybe there’s someone who’s been gone for a while and you’re wondering if it’s your place to
check in.
Do it anyway. Show up anyway.
These are the moments when our faith becomes real. Not in the polished, scheduled parts of our lives, but in the in-between spaces, the unexpected phone call, the difficult visit, the quiet act of noticing. Sometimes it’s just about choosing to show up, even when it’s awkward.
Because love — gospel-shaped love — shows up imperfectly. But it shows up. And sometimes, that’s enough.
