When we think it’s too late
I was flipping through the Christian Century that came this week while I was in New York City for commencement. I couldn’t understand the Gothic church doorway, the rainbow light and the word “camp.” Three things that didn’t seem to fit together.**
But actually it was the following words that sparked this morning’s reflection.
“If only you’d gotten here sooner,” say Mary. Then Martha. Their brother Lazarus is dead.
That feeling. That terrible feeling that it’s too late.
I have witnessed or experienced this feeling of “too late” so many times in my life.
Too late to say the right thing.
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Too late to change the course of history.
Too late to set things right.
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Too late to mend the broken relationship.
Too late to say goodbye.
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Too late to leave when I should.
These declarations come with feelings of disappointment. Defeat. Rumination and second-guessing. Loss. Sadness. Grief. They can lead to depression.
What I also know is that sometimes the declaration “it’s too late!” And the attending feelings are premature.
To be sure, accidents happen. People die. The course of history changes detrimentally. Yet I think we declare, “it’s too late,” too often.
Our anxiety and our fears can drive us into a state of distress and believing it’s too late to do anything to change the relationships, situations, and directions around us.
It’s easy to underestimate our own powers of saying the right thing. We somehow forget that we are not alone and that the Spirit can speak in and with us.
Making History
I read this piece by Heather Cox Richardson this morning, and I was reminded that she was warned more than seven years ago (April 2018) that it was “too late” for what she was doing. And yet she kept writing “Letters from an American.” She kept speaking. And she kept interpreting – history in light of current events and current events in light of history. And she has given a deep kind of understanding and hope to millions of people.
When we work together utilizing alliances of trust, and what my colleague Sarah Azaransky calls a “coalition of the willing,” we can make a difference in the direction that history goes on a small or larger scale.
In 2020 it was too late for the lives of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor. Black lives cut short from by senseless violence. Yet in the months that followed thousands of people and businesses and churches turned their gaze in a new direction. White folks started to see in a new way. And they began to ask important questions. The movement that emerged included protests and demonstrations, and changes to policy and practice. Yet we also know those trends toward greater empathy and anti-racism have been increasingly disrupted and threatened.
This spring I am witnessings so much hand wringing, metaphorically and literally asking is it too late? But we know backlash comes every time any group of marginalized people from any social location, confronts the powers which have shaped our present world so forcefully. White supremacy, patriarchy, and colonialism, reassert themselves in response to any threat.
Yet, like a wave that draws back and to consolidate energy, strength and power, the next wave of making change for good needs time to gather its resources.
Considering Relationships
When a personal or communal relationship has been broken, the parties who are hurt need time to withdraw and reset. But it’s not too late to say… I’m sorry. I was wrong. How can I make amends? I see that I need to learn. I was operating out of my own brokenness, and I’m grieved at how that hurt you. Can you forgive me?
Rather than live in regret for the harm we’ve done, it is possible to choose to set aside the belief of “too late” and embrace the possibility of “now is the time.”
The art of revisiting broken relationships, the personal ones or the communal ones, calls one to speak with truth and courage. It also calls for holding a creative tension. On one side not giving in to the desires for powerful words or acts of revenge. And on the other side, resisting the temptation to throw one’s power away in self-destruction.
All of this is a matter of deep discernment and seeking wise council. It is a matter of collaborating with the Spirit and accepting that the risk may lead to something unanticipated. To remain open to grace and the possibility of healing. But also, it is to know and take responsibility for the fact one could cause further harm. This delicate and treacherous stance is the very heart of human relating.
Taking a Second Look
When we look at a situation or relationship or institution and think this is so broken that it is too late, I believe it is worth the effort to take a second look. To travel four days as Jesus did to Bethany. To listen to the cries of the Marys and Marthas who are urgently invested in the situation. And to consider what is possible. To take a risk with courage. And to bring life back where death seemed certain.
It is also profoundly important to know when it truly is too late. And our personal power, even with the Spirit’s collaboration, simply may not be enough to repair a situation.
Accepting and integrating loss into our lives is also human art form.
And even after a person or job or relationship or community or friend is gone, much remains to be learned. Until we draw our own last breath, we cannot rightfully say it is too late to learn from whatever has transpired (breathed together) in our lives.
Yet far too often in this short life, it is really NOT too late.
So gather up your courage, meditate and pray, seek wise counsel, and take a risk. Speak truth to power, or a word of grace. Ask forgiveness, or take the first step of repair.
I’d love to know how it turns out because I need stories of grace, redemption, and new life just as much as anyone.
Where in your life have you said, it’s too late!? How might you reconsider today?
** “Notes on (Christian) camp” by Brandon Ambrosino (June 2025) goes in a decidedly different direction. And is well worth a read when it lands in your mailbox or on the website, ChristianCentury.org.
