Welcome out

January 13, 2014

When it comes to church, I’m a wanderer: I don’t have a church home so much as a village of church tents. All this wandering has made me a connoisseur of church welcomes or the lack thereof. I can tell you where I did or didn’t feel welcome—though I can’t always say why.

I am beginning to get a clue, however, from my work as a hospital chaplain. Like churches, chaplains try to create a welcome for people. Unlike churches, we don’t really have a place to welcome people to. This isn’t just because no one wants to be welcomed into the hospital. Often we are trying to create a welcome outside  whatever mess people find themselves inside. We welcome out: we go out of our comfort zones so we can meet people where they are, in their discomfort zones.

I had a really hard time with this at first. I put this down to being an introvert—despite all the great press we’ve been getting lately, it is still the case that meeting new people exhausts our energy reserves. So a job where I meet new people over and over every day—and I don’t get to keep the old ones!—is kind of a special hell. (“Good,” my supervisor said. “You can relate to people in the hospital. They are all in their own special hell.”)

How, I wondered, do I create a welcome when we are all in the wilderness?

That’s when I thought about Abraham and Sarah and that weird story about welcoming God out in the desert. (Genesis 18 if you want to brush up.) Abraham and Sarah are out in the desert, living in tents, and God shows up with a couple of friends. Out of the shade of a tent and whatever they have on hand, they bid God welcome.

Abraham and Sarah don’t have much, but apparently welcome doesn’t take much. You have to see the stranger, to move toward her and greet her. You have to give him some physical comfort and basic sustenance—to remain nearby, waiting, simply being with him.

Notice what isn’t part of this picture: a permanent building, a sense of ownership, a “safe space.” Then there’s the fact that God is the one being welcomed. Isn’t God the one who welcomes us?

I believe God welcomes us, but I don’t always feel that welcome. Just like I know God loves me—loves all of us—but I don’t always feel that love. So in my work as a chaplain, I wondered if welcome is like love: we have to close the loop. God loves us, and invites us to love ourselves and our neighbors—and in so doing to love God back. God welcomes us, and invites us to welcome ourselves and our neighbors—and in so doing to welcome God.

God wants me to welcome myself? Have I done that? If not, I may carry a sense of unwelcome everywhere I go. There are a few estranged parts of me that I am not always happy to see or be around. But if I can’t welcome the stranger in me, how can I welcome the stranger in you? And then how can I say I am welcoming God?

These questions have done some work in me. I’ve gone out to meet those parts of myself that have been wandering around in the wilderness. I am finding it a little easier to go out and meet other wanderers, to take a welcome to them.

I wonder what this might look like for a church. Too often my experience has been that a church at best tries to welcome you in, into its language and customs and insider ways. If we think of ourselves only in the welcoming role, we may not be aware of how we put the expectation on others to come fit in.

But the welcome we offer—like the communion table we share—does not begin with us or belong to us. What would change if a church knew itself first as a recipient of God’s welcome, and then took that sense of welcome out into the world?

I think God’s welcome looks something like that. God is always moving out toward us, pitching tent in whatever wilderness we find ourselves wandering in.


This reminds me of a blog

This reminds me of a blog post from Cheryl Lawrie from several years ago that has always stuck with me. She talks about Jesus' hospitality as not always being a form of welcoming others to his table but also an inclusion and hospitality that takes place at other tables where we are not the hosts. It's a post worth reading (Cheryl is always worth reading):




Other tables

That was a lovely post ... thank you for sharing the link. There is much love and wisdom and abundance to be found at the other tables. Laughter and good food, too!


Having experienced first-hand the blatant UNwelcome-ness of people gathered under a church roof, calling themselves a "Church", and having seen the "look" of homophobic disgust (UNwelcome) in the eyes of so-called loving Christians, I believe that the "Church" itself has become very comfortable with exclusion and ethnocentricity.  WE are Christian and worthy, YOU are not.....and if YOU want to join our club.....YOU have to (a)admit you are unworthy, (b)publicly shame yourself, and, of course, (c)give us that tithe/check.   How sad, how unloving, how UNwelcome.   

Love, especially God's love, does not belong to a select few....to be sparringly doled out to the worthy few.  Love is not an owned commodity.  There is no mortal membership requirement to join God's love club....because all of us are already in the fold and always have been and always will be.  Right?  Isn't that what Psalm 139 says?   How can there even be a discussion about "welcome" when God has already, before I was even conceived in my mother's womb, whipered my soul into existence.   I don't need welcome into a place, a fold, a church, a club....if I am already and always God's loved one.  

It is deeply offensive to me to see churchs proudly proclaiming their voted-up open and affirming stance, as though they have a right to take a vote, to decide if I am to be affirmed.  (welcomed.) Neither I, nor anyone else,  needs the affirmation of man to find solce/comfort/joy/wisdom/peace and restoration.....within the arms of God.  How falsely arrogant....how self righteous to make ourselves feel good inside by voting to let in the otherwise unworthy.   Welcome is not an attitude.......welcome is a gift from God to us........a state of mind and heart and soul.   

Welcome is a gift

I love that, welcome as a gift and state of mind and heart and soul.