When I think back to my senior high school days, one of the brightest treasures in my memory is a small circle of friends who, like me, loved Jesus with a genuine, imperfect passion. We were not flawless, not even close, but our faith was alive. We prayed together before evening prep, whispered petitions to God as we walked briskly to class, and reminded each other of His promises before major exams, during bouts of sickness, and in those moments when our chopboxes sat nearly empty. We encouraged each other when we stumbled, spoke faith into moments of doubt and fear, and stood watch over one another’s hearts when temptation whispered for us to act in ways that were not Christ-like.

There was even that unforgettable day when an eagle swooped down, snatched my samosa, and scratched my face in the process. We couldn’t decide if it was God fulfilling His promise to feed the birds (Matthew 6:26) or if this particular eagle was simply a troublemaker on a snack-stealing spree. Either way, we laughed until our sides hurt.

We shared far more than just space in a dormitory, we shared worship, tears, snacks, scriptures, and the kind of secrets that knit hearts together for a lifetime or for a season. Those were the days when friendship was ministry, faith was contagious, and even the smallest moments were marked by the joy of belonging to God and to each other.

And we had a name for ourselves.

We called ourselves “Team Jesus”.

It wasn’t just a catchy phrase, it felt like a declaration – a statement that our bond was rooted in something deeper than common interests or that we were simply in the same boarding house. It was rooted in faith. Looking back now, I realize we weren’t just hanging out. We were carrying one another through some of the most formative years of our lives.

At the time, I didn’t fully understand just how sacred that kind of friendship was. Not until years later, when I came across the story in Mark 2, the one about the four friends who carried their paralyzed companion to Jesus. They couldn’t get through the crowd, so they climbed the roof, tore a hole in it, and lowered him right down to where Jesus was.

And then I read these words:
“When Jesus saw their faith, He said to the paralyzed man, ‘Son, your sins are forgiven.’” – Mark 2:5

Not his faith. Their faith.

That passage stopped me in my tracks. Jesus didn’t just respond to the paralyzed man’s need; He responded to the determination of his friends. The kind of friends who refused to be deterred by obstacles. The kind of friends who said, “We will carry you until you can walk again.”

That, I realized, is what Team Jesus looks like.

It’s the kind of community where, when your faith has dried up, someone else lends you theirs. When you’re tired, someone else prays. When your strength is gone, someone grabs the mat and says, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this corner.”

Because the truth is, we all take turns being the one on the mat and the one holding it.

Sometimes, you’re the paralyzed one. The one who can’t seem to pray, can’t seem to believe, can’t even lift your eyes. And other times, you’re one of the faithful few, holding tight to a corner of someone else’s pain, determined to get them to Jesus, no matter what stands in the way.

Both are holy. Both are necessary. 

Both are what it means to be on Team Jesus.

Yet intercession is only one expression of carrying. Sometimes it looks like answering questions with patience and gentleness, offering clarity when confusion clouds someone’s heart. Other times, it looks like gently reminding a friend of God’s promises when they feel forgotten. It could mean listening without judgment, speaking scripture over someone’s life when they’ve lost their voice, or simply creating space for the Holy Spirit to prophesy through your presence and your words.

When I think about those high school days now, I smile. Back then, we said “Team Jesus” like it was a slogan, a rallying cry of youthful zeal. But these days, I say it more like a lifeline. It’s not just a phrase. It’s a community. It’s the reminder that I’m not alone, even on the hard days. It’s the quiet assurance that someone still has my corner when I feel like letting go.

Maybe today, you’re the one who needs to be carried. Allow yourself to be held. Let someone else’s faith anchor you until yours is renewed. Or perhaps today, you’re the one strong enough to carry. Don’t hesitate to press in. Don’t be deterred by resistance or the seeming impossibility of what lies ahead. Tear off the roof if you must through prayer, through truth, through consistent love. Carry them, not just with intercession, but with encouragement, with scripture, with a Spirit-led word in season.

Because Jesus still heals. He still forgives. He still honours faith that won’t quit – faith that digs through ceilings, breaks through barriers, and brings the broken straight to His feet.

So whether you’re on the mat or you’re holding the rope, you are still on Team Jesus.

And on this team, no one gets left behind. Not then. Not now. Not ever.