Four teenage boys wandered into church one Sunday morning. As service started, they made their way to the back pew. They sat beside each other with their John Deer hats on. As their gaze was fixed on the pastor, a deacon of the church walked behind the boys sitting on the pew. With his finger, he quickly flicked the hat off of each head and mumbled something about respect. Without hesitation, the boys rose, collected their hats and left the church. They never returned.
In another church somewhere, service was starting and the choir began the first hymn of the morning. A homeless man entered the sanctuary. His clothes were smothered in dirt, sweat and the smell of loneliness. His hair was matted to his head and his shoes full of holes. As he made his way down the aisle looking for a seat, not one person would slide over and let him sit in their pew. After several looks of rejection from the men and woman already seated, he quickly made his way down towards the pulpit. In between the first pews, right in the center where the aisle ended, he had a seat. Individuals throughout the church let out gasps of disbelief, judgment and disgust. Not once did the homeless man turn back to battle such gasps with his own. Instead, his eyes were fixated on the pastor, waiting for the message. Suddenly, an elderly man stood from his seat on the pew. He slowly made his way into the aisle. All eyes watched in wonder. The elderly man walked to the homeless man and as everyone else sat up in intensity waiting to hear what would be said to the unordinary visitor, he calmly sat in the middle of the aisle beside him.
Recently, I shared a video in Sunday school. The poet highlights some amazing points and thought provoking quotes. Such points included “Church isn’t a museum for the pretty. It’s a hospital for the broken.” and “Just because you call some people blind, it doesn’t give you vision.” An amazing discussion came from this video. Questions were asked. Thoughts were shared. But one line from the poem casted conviction on us all: “If Jesus came to your church, would they actually let Him in?” In our conversation, I replaced one word. My edit of the line became “If Jesus came to your church, would YOU actually let Him in?” Truth is, not all of the hearts in the Youth room that morning could answer yes, and those that could knew it wouldn’t be an automatic answer in such a situation.
After leaving church that day, I started to question myself on how churches become museums instead of hospitals and why we are so quick to call others blind before actually receiving God’s vision ourselves. Still, I do not know the answers. One thing I am certain about, however, is that our church wants to know God’s face. We long to know His voice and feel His presence, even in our imperfection. But are we overlooking someone? Are we missing a “homeless” man or woman, thirsty for God’s Word and provision? Are we focusing on the dress code instead of the broken hearts of the younger generation? We are not perfect, nor will we ever be perfect. But God’s love is, and that’s what we are supposed to be sharing. So I ask that you join me in praying that our vision would be God’s alone; that His heart would form our actions. And that most of all, our home would be a home for all.
In His Love,
Brittany Jade
