SEEING THE EXTRAORDINARY

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  • Sacred Spaces

    We know we have encountered a sacred space when we arrive there…it has happened to me before.  I am always surprised and joyful when I know I am there, as if I have been invited by the One who loves me.  The space this time was discovered while spending a week in retreat at Mepkin Abbey.  The week was the gift of breathing, rest, and worship.  It ushered in solitude, grace, love, and warmth…healing my weary soul.  The sacred space was revealed in the garden, in the most inconspicuous of places among it all.  The beauty of the gardens overlooking the waters of the Cooper River invites the visitor to come and sit, listen and pray.   But it was on a set of steps leading up to a cemetery that I felt washed over with love…in a ravine with lush underbrush and beautiful random flowers.  The most amazing songs were sung by the symphony of birds, songs that were the most welcoming and joyful I have ever encountered.  They stole the silence of the grounds and my heart invited their song. My heart needed their song.  The beauty of it all was indescribable.  I wanted to stay in that place, in that moment, forever.  Or, at least to return often, to know I was close enough to capture the sacredness of it all, again and again.  But that isn’t how some sacred spaces work.  Some are given to us for just a glimpse, a season, a breath.  They are a momentary vision of God’s amazing beauty and grace wrapped in greenery and song, and my heart was full.  But at some point, I had to move…to move on, to move forward, reaching ever closer to the call.  I am grateful to be given the space, if just for a little while.  I was reminded of God’s Presence in the songs of his small but powerful creation.  While I can’t stay forever, I can carry the joy, the love and the peace with me as I serve.  May God continue to give sacred spaces, if just for a moment…and may I stop to hear his still, small voice that changes everything.  Until next time…

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  • I am…

    (This is the message delivered at Trinity Missionary Baptist Church, Sunday March 10, 2019.  The equipment was not working, so this is the manuscript)

    “I just don’t get it!”   These words can be expressed from most any student that has tried to solve an equation, anyone trying to learn something new, facing the challenge of fixing a broken piece of machinery, or simply reading a difficult passage.  It can be frustrating to search and dig and try to discover only to find a complete loss in the end.  Some things are just difficult to understand.  Not all of life comes with easy answers or quick fixes.  I find that the most valuable lessons I have learned have come from difficult times when I have had to keep learning, keep asking, keep exploring, keep asking “and”…until finally, the lightbulb moment occurred.  It can be so rewarding to either see the light or help someone else to see it.  The “I don’t get it” turns into an “ah ha!” moment and it is priceless.  In today’s reading, I find myself in the position of searching…and listening…and exploring, trying to uncover what Jesus is teaching.

    John 8:31-38

    Jesus is talking to a group of Jews – those born and raised in the faith…believers in God…Jesus’ own people, these are people that were searching and trying to put all the pieces together.  They didn’t get it.  They had not turned away…they had not given up…they were still struggling through Jesus’ teachings.  And if we are honest with ourselves, we should find ourselves in this position a lot as we read and study the teachings of Jesus.  He presents some difficult teachings on loving and following and serving. He does not sugar coat or spoon feed. With Jesus, he is teaching and leading from the ultimate place of love…but this love convicts us that we are not who we should be…nor do we do all that could… His love challenges us to become more like him and less like the world…and it changes us into the people he has created.

    In today’s teaching, Jesus is explaining what it means to follow…to be a disciple…a real disciple.  In this, he explains that being a disciple is continuing in his word, the truth.  This truth will make the disciple free.  This sounds great and we often speak this verse…you will know the truth and the truth shall set you free.  Mostly we speak it when we have remembered a Bible verse or trying to prove we are right. But this verse also insinuates something.  If the truth makes free, then the opposite is to be a slave…to be oppressed…to be held down…to be not free.  The opposite of free is captured and contained.  For a Jewish person, this means something.  If we reference back to the Old Testament teachings, there are many indications of freedom from oppression.  Indicated here…being a descendant of Abraham means that they are God’s chosen…and as a child of God, not slaves.  They may have also thought about Passover and how Moses had led God’s people out of slavery, to be set free.  For Jesus to speak about needing to be free is a difficult and possibly offensive teaching.

    While we may not find that immediately difficult, the application hits a little closer to home for us, as non-Jews. Jesus answered them that the slavery he is talking about is a slavery to sin.  Sin is holding them as slaves and due to the sin, they are unable to see an opportunity for sonship…the chance to be a child of the King.  They are missing a place at the table because they don’t understand there is something better for them.  They are happy being slaves because they don’t realize that there is more to this life than where they are.  They haven’t seen the master’s table, where the children of the Master sit. And they don’t see it because they don’t understand how Jesus fits into their picture.  God, they get.  Abraham, they understand.  Moses, they have learned about.  The Law, they have expounded.  But Jesus…they do not have a place for.  They don’t understand how God has shown them who he is because it is easier to stay like they are, than move forward with Jesus.

    They are not the only ones that didn’t get it. There are so many of us that are held as slaves to sin because it is easier than living in the light.  There are many of us that would rather live in sin because that is a life we understand.  The truth may set us free, but we have to see how enslaved we are to see how free we could be…  When we are slaves of sin, we are held back.  We are under oppression of sin.  We are not free to be as we were created to be.  We don’t see that there is a place at God’s table for us.

    Sin seeks to destroy, and eats away at us from the inside out.  Sin tells us who we are not.  Sin whispers that we are losers, defective, failures, bad people, worthless, unclean. Sin says that we have no way out…that we are the way we are and nothing can change that.  Sin steals our joy and our hope.  Sin…missing the mark, not seeing who we are as God’s beloved…takes the life we have been given and crumples it up like the paper we have written and erased on way too many times.  Sin says we can try but we will never succeed.

    And the waters become even more muddy because we really are sinners.  We make mistakes.  We can try so very hard and still mess up.  We can make every effort and still find ourselves at a loss…still not good enough…still not succeeding.  Sometimes, it seems the harder we try, the more we fail.  Sin…those things which hold us back…that keep us from living…that take our eyes off the One that loves and created us…that tells us we are failures…they can take a toll on us.

    But Jesus has overcome all of that.  Jesus is our way out of all of that.  Jesus seeks to reclaim us, to remake us, to reshape us…to mold us into the people we were created to be…free.  To be free reminds us that we are God’s beloved.  We have a place at God’s great big table because he calls us his own.  We are loved and chosen.  We are a disciple when we follow Christ.  We are a disciple when these words begin to seep into our being and take over our world. We are a disciple when we allow Jesus to consume us.  We are disciples when we answer the call of Christ…come and follow me.  Drop it all and follow.

    To become a disciple…is as simple as following. A disciple is a follower, a learner, a discoverer.  It is not about being perfect or getting it all right.  It is not about always being successful or receiving any physical gifts. It is about finding peace and hope and joy in the journey.  When we are disciples, we find that we are the beloved…we are beautiful creations of a God that continues to mold and shape us into exactly who we were made to be…we are good and chosen and free.  To be a disciple is freedom…we choose to follow the One that calls us his own. Do you have a place in you to follow?

    It begins with answering the call to follow…Jesus says, come and follow me and I will make you my disciples.  Once we follow, he guides and directs where we should go.  This is not in a slave situation, but in a freedom situation…we choose to follow the One that created us and gave us life…and he leads us into a life that is free and abundant and where we are loved.  When we begin to follow, we begin to listen and learn and grow…to become the people God knows we can be.  We hear his Word…we see him at work…we receive a hope that there is so much more. Sin does not have a hold on us any longer.  We are free. Will you follow?  The cost is everything…the reward is even more than that…the gift is being a child at the Master’s table.  Come take your seat…you are one of his beloved.  He has been waiting for you.

     

  • Be My Guest? Grief makes itself at home…

    You may have people in your life that show up unexpectedly.  Out of nowhere, here they come.  They make themselves at home, take up space on your couch, and seem to stay way past their welcome.  They demand attention and disrupt your normal schedule.  As much as you would like for them to leave, they seem to have made themselves a permanent fixture.  After a while, they may remind you they are there, but you learn to work with them. It can be frustrating, but you just make room and accept.  It’s at that point they finally leave and come back only to visit.  You breathe relief.

    This is a picture I have of grief…the unwelcome visitor.  Grief comes and makes a space in our lives.  We could lock the doors and shut the blinds and pretend we are not home.  But eventually, we have to answer the door.  At some point, we have to be willing to allow grief to enter so that we can move on…we don’t want to be shut up in our homes forever.  And while grief may be unwelcome, it serves a purpose…it actually is necessary.  Grief allows us to mourn what has been lost.  We work through the death of someone we love…we process the change in our world…we remember the life we had…we experience the good and the not so good when we grieve.

    For some, grief stays around for what seems to be a long time.  It takes a while to work through the loss.  There are days that go well and days that do not.  There are times when we can go to that event and times when leaving the house is not an option.  There are days when we feel like we are past all of this and days when we wonder if it will ever get better.  It is part of the process, the journey.  Our guest is with us as we work through it all.  And that is okay.  For others, grief comes and goes in brief but abrupt visits.  But know that grief visits all, there are not exceptions.

    For those that have the unexpected guest taking up residence…hear that it does get better.  The guest, grief, begins to show up a little less often (although almost always a surprise at every arrival).  The sun does eventually shine a little more.  Things do improve, if only in glimpses.  So be gentle with yourself.  Your guest is there to help you through it all.  And you are not alone in your journey.  Way more people are dealing with grief than you will ever know.  We all deal with it in our own way and our own time.  So maybe it is time to open the door, welcome the guest in, and begin the journey.  There is hope and a new day waiting.

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    Emma “guarding” the door…no guests allowed

  • Has it really been that long?

    The waters of baptism washed over me as I stood before the congregation I would serve, with my friend at my side and my father at the pulpit.  It is a day I will never forget.  The flood of memories overwhelm me like the feeling of the warm water.  I remember the gift of a study Bible, the people that laid hands on me to pray over me as I began this journey, the feeling of being loved.  On March 9, 2004, I was baptized by my friend Lynn Taylor and Ordained as a Baptist Minister, a service led by my father, Jerry Mitchell.

    There have been many days that I have questioned the calling, wondering if I heard incorrectly.  I have tried to do other things in the ministry.  I have felt like Job as I have walked away from the pulpit and thought that this was not for me.  But there have been many more days that I have been overwhelmed by God’s grace, mercy and forgiveness.  He has allowed me to walk with people in their journeys of celebration and grief.  I have sat at the table with people I now consider family.

    LaGrange First Missionary has always and will always hold a very special place in my heart and in the heart of my wife and children.  They took a chance on me when they could have chosen otherwise.  They loved me and accepted me and welcomed me into their lives.  They gave me grace when I messed up and walked with me through my own struggles.  I am forever grateful to God for giving me the privilege of serving this congregation…for I saw God in more ways that I can count as a result.

    I am grateful that God continued to be patient with me as I took a sabbatical.  I needed the time to breathe but that was difficult for my family.  I needed to be ministered to, but it is difficult to let go.  God worked through all of that in amazing ways.  He gave me the opportunity to complete a Master of Divinity degree at a school that taught me to think critically and love fiercely.  Campbell Divinity School was the right choice for me and I knew it from the first day I stepped on campus.  It was a place of learning and healing.

    I am grateful for Northeast FWB for allowing me to serve as an Interim.  It was a beautiful experience that gave me the chance to celebrate Advent and Christmas with a congregation that was welcoming and kind to this traveler.

    Today, I serve at Trinity Missionary Baptist.  Beginning as Interim, my intention was to remain interim.  God had other plans.  Four years ago, I accepted the interim position.  In July, I will have been the Pastor at Trinity for four years.  God directed and I did my best to be obedient.  I was hesitant, not because of Trinity but because of Brad.  I love with my everything but that doesn’t always reflect in the ways I serve.  I wasn’t sure I had enough to give Trinity.  I can say that Trinity has also been kind and gracious to me.  They have given me the opportunity to pursue my Doctor of Ministry degree.  They have supported the ways that I have felt God leading.  They have loved me despite me.  Together, we have become better.  I pray God continues to work in it all.

    As I write this, I am overwhelmed by the opportunity to serve God as a minister.  I cannot believe he chose to use me, but I am grateful he did.  I pray that I can continue to serve as he would have me to serve.  I pray that I will love as he teaches me to love.  I pray I can show others what it means to follow, no matter the cost.  I pray I can be his hands and feet.  15 years later, I say…”Lead on, God…Lead on.”

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  • Sidelined…

    Sometimes we just get sidelined.  Despite our best efforts…even in the case of the best planning…no matter how much we prepare…there are times when things don’t go as planned.  That’s probably a kind, gentle way of putting it.  It feels more like someone took our plans, shredded them, and stuffed a piñata with them.  Now, we just want to take the stick and beat that piñata for all we are worth.  But those are just my thoughts about it.

    Sidelines occur without expectation and can throw us off balance.  Examples…The car “check engine” light decides to not only shine…but decides to wink continuously…an alert to let you know that its life is on the edge of the abyss.  An assignment you had forgotten about is now due…and you have to rework your entire day to make sure it gets done.  A family member needs to go to the doctor and you are the only one that can take him…so you change your plans.  A relationship that was going fine is now not going so fine…and the tension is so thick you can cut it with a knife.  There are more days in the month than money in your bank account.  You get the point…there are many different types of sidelines…they happen and they can whip us.

    For me, the season of Lent reminds me of one great big sideline.  Jesus is teaching and healing and guiding.  He is showing people what it means to love.  He is seeing people that have never been truly seen before.  He is offering life…an abundant life that doesn’t equate to things but to valuables such as peace, joy, and hope.  He is making a difference.  But a series of events leads him down a different path.  He begins a journey that will lead him to the cross.  The 40 day trek I take at Lent reminds me that his journey was filled with heartache and disappointment, betrayal and torture.  Yet, Jesus teaches me a lesson about being sidelined.

    When his life pointed toward the cross…when his daily life and teachings were turned upside down…how did Jesus handle it?  He kept his eyes focused on his calling and kept doing what he was sent to do.  He did not allow those sidelines to distract him from his mission, from his purpose, from his love.  Even when he knew that death was imminent, he stayed the course.

    That teaches me that when life sidelines me…when things are thrown at me…when it seems that the problems of this life are the weight of a heavy wet blanket…smothering me and holding me down…I must stay the course, focus on the purpose, follow God, and never give up.  Sidelines are not the finish line…they cannot change who I am or what I am called to do.  They may hurt, they may cripple, they may frustrate…but they will not stop the path for which I have been called to travel.

    So when you are sidelined…keep moving forward… The One that was sidelined for his love is the same One that will love us when we get sidelined.

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  • Does it even matter? (Blog 6 of the series)

    Does it really matter?  At the heart of it all, does it REALLY matter?

    As I consider the work and acts of Jesus, I can’t find where it matters to him.  I look, I search, I ponder and I still cannot come up with anything.  For the life of me, I cannot find where it matters to him.  In fact, it seems to be the opposite…he really doesn’t seem to care AT ALL.  And if Jesus doesn’t care…if I am really reading this correctly, then I can’t imagine why Christians care.  If we wear the title…if we walk among those that claim it…if we sit among those that struggle with it…if we, in fact, carry the name of Jesus in any way, shape or form, then, can it matter?  Am I missing something?

    When I read the stories of Jesus, when I really take a few moments to open the Bible and plunge head first into the stories, it just doesn’t seem to matter to him.  Let me tell you what I see as I swim deep in the waters:  Jesus went out of his way to meet the people that no one seemed to care about.  As he approached the ten lepers, they could not have looked well…they have a horrifying skin disease after all.  They were likely deformed and difficult to see – likely a bit shocking.  They probably had no actual clothing to speak of (I can’t imagine what would have been okay to wear with a devastating skin disease that would eat away at their lives).  Yet, Jesus sees them, hears them, heals them.  One of them isn’t even “like” him – that one was a Samaritan.  That one…still healed, still loved, still offered new life.  Yep – Jesus saw him.  As I think about the blind beggar that Jesus hears and calls to him, I can almost see and smell him as he appears.  This person was likely unclean, unkept, and was noticed before he was approached – he was a beggar after all…he could not have had any valuables by the other’s standards, he begged for everything he had…he could not have been “presentable” to be in the presence of Jesus, he couldn’t even see Jesus…YET, Jesus doesn’t care about any of that.  Jesus loves him, he heals him, he answers his request.  He is given new life.  I feel like I am sitting next to the man staring at the water…where he has been sitting for so many years, with this disease…this disabling disease that has reeked havoc on his life for 38 years.  He had sat in this very spot for all of those years with nothing – nothing to show for it, nothing to help, no one to care…he was depressed, hopeless, distressed – you can feel that he has given up on life.  He likely had no possessions other than his mat, why would he need them?  He was destitute sitting by a body of water just waiting for his turn to be healed…and it had not happened in all of those years.  Jesus saw him, offered him hope like he could have never imagined, gave him a new life…and did it just as he was, unconditionally.

    What do I notice about these few stories (note that there are so many more)?  I notice that Jesus does NOT ask them to get themselves together before coming to him.  I notice that Jesus does NOT lecture them on the mistakes they made to get there, if any.  He does NOT quiz them on their past and the sins they may have committed or shun them for being in their present state.  I notice Jesus does NOT ask them if they will follow him with a set of responsibilities in order to be healed.  I can’t help but think that Jesus didn’t ask them to do anything because he knew them and he loved them – just as they were.  They were welcomed in his presence no matter what they looked like or what they did.  They were and are his children, after all.

    As I read it, do you know what mattered to Jesus about these people?  Nothing.  He didn’t seem to care about the color of their skin, their ethnic background, how many times they had been to the synagogue, if they had gone through the Jewish rituals as a child, who their parents were, how they got there, what they had done right or wrong, or whether they were worthy.  He didn’t care if they smelled good or had nice clothes or had any offering or could speak his language.  He didn’t care if they knew when to sit or stand in church or if they had ever heard the opening of a scroll.  He didn’t ask them how they got there or what they would do after meeting him.  He simply loved them as they were…and people were changed by HIM.

    Maybe THIS is the key to being the church…Maybe our response as the church is that it simply doesn’t matter – just come – Jesus is waiting with open, loving arms…we want you to meet him.

    (image from Pinterest)

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  • The *POP*

    I either say way too much…or I don’t say nearly enough.  There is no happy medium with me.  I’m not sure why.  You would think that I would learn lessons or at least get some idea when it is going off the rails.  But I seem oblivious to the fact that what is coming out of my mouth should be stopped, halted, abbreviated, or unspoken. 

    This morning, I was cooking breakfast, and something popped in the pan.  I jumped back immediately. It certainly put me on alert.  My first thought was…WOW – I could use that pop when I’m about to say something I shouldn’t or when I fail to say something I should.  You know, that jolt that shocks you enough you jump back.  That pop my mom probably wanted to give me across the mouth when I said something that I should not have (there were plenty of moments for that growing up). 

    Now, don’t think that I am sitting around analyzing my conversations…I have way too much to do for that…and that would just stress me out even more.  I am more describing that feeling right after a conversation.  And I don’t mean the conversations I have when I am focused, and the discussions are meaningful.  I am talking about the sitting around just chit-chatting type of talk…the discussions where I am not really thinking and just talking.  I end up thinking of all the unnecessary things I have said…the “filler” type of talk – the air that would be better used to blow up a balloon.  I think of the important things I should have said but didn’t because so much time was spent on useless discussion. 

    I bring this up it reminds me to be a little more intentional.  I am reminded that my days and my relationships are precious.  It helps me to think about how I have the gift of spending time with others and I shouldn’t waste it.  There should be plenty of laughing and encouraging…there should be joy and celebration.  There should be a time for grieving together and a time for just sitting and saying nothing.  There should be time for enjoying the presence of others without having to fill it with hot air better left unsaid. 

    Maybe…just maybe…if I am intentional…I will find that *pop* at just the right time and remember that this day, this opportunity, this friendship is a gift and I will treat it as such.  And maybe I will treasure the moments.  And maybe I will blow up a balloon with the rest of the hot air.

     

    five assorted balloons
    Photo by Padli Pradana on Pexels.com

  • Divisive?

    Divisive…that’s the word that came to my mind as I was running this morning.  It all too often describes our world.  It is true that I prefer love and encouragement and peace.  I completely understand the need to take a stand or knee for what you believe.  I am extremely grateful for the contributions of Martin Luther King Jr. and his unwillingness to accept that things had to be the way they were.  But I don’t see Martin Luther King Jr as divisive.  I don’t see Harriet Tubman as divisive.  I don’t see Rosa Parks as divisive.  I don’t see Jesus as divisive.  I see a drive to bring people together and a refusal to accept the divide.  The willingness to risk their lives to bring people together in love is beyond comprehension (and many more like them). 

    So what do I mean by divisive?  I mean those that purposely put their agendas ahead of people.  I mean those that aren’t willing to hear anyone else…it’s my way or the highway.  I mean those that post hateful comments to “prove their point” or to inflate their ego.  I mean those that could find common ground with others, but instead choose to find fighting ground.  I find this mostly on social media.  There are short, quick snapshots (memes, gifs, etc.) that are meant to be jabs at other that have a different opinion.  I suppose they are “meme warriors” because that is what you see constantly.  Those do not help start a conversation but are great at starting an argument.  They also are wonderful at finding out who thinks your opinion is just the best (insert eye roll here).  In school, these may have been bullies…or at least it feels like bullying… 

    So, what is the opposite of divisive? 

    Listening (really listening to those that differ in opinions, lifestyles, politics, beliefs, or anything)…

    Loving (even loving those that we see as unlovable…you know…loving like Jesus)…

    Respecting (offering respect to others because…I don’t know…they are people)…

    These are places that I choose to start.  I am grateful for the opportunity to voice opinions…I just think there is a better way…and I don’t think that divisive is the way to do it.  Just my thoughts on this day when we remember the contribution of a Baptist Preacher that refused to accept the divide.

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  • What Are You Looking For? (Blog 5 of the Series)

    Be is struggling.  He has been wondering where God is in his life.  Over the last few weeks, he has searched for what is next.  It wasn’t long ago that he lost his job.  His marriage ended a year ago because he spent more time working than he did taking care of his wife.  She took the kids and although it hurt, it allowed him to focus on work…it was, after all, where he found his purpose and where he felt he mattered.  Now all is lost.  It is all gone.  He has money in the bank and he will be fine financially.  There are other prospects.  His position being eliminated did not stop him from having other places to go work. But it did remind him that he was not nearly as important as he thought he was.  He is not nearly as valuable as he conceived in his mind.  Here he is…no family, no job, no purpose.  And so today, he decides to step into a sanctuary.  It really wasn’t intentional.  It came as an idea in the middle of the night.

    Be grew up going to church as a child.  He knew the Bible stories.  He remembered the power of stepping into the sanctuary, a Holy place.  He wanted that feeling again.  It had been too many years, but what other option did he have?  And what could it hurt…to just step in one more time…to wade in the waters?  So, he enters the church…

    It is interesting that Be is not considering the coffee or donuts, although they may be an added bonus.  He isn’t thinking about who is there or what the demographic of the church might be.  He doesn’t care if there are fresh flowers on the altar or if the carpet is purple.  Be wants to be in the presence of God.  He has had enough of the world and its disappointments.  He has struggled enough with stress and competition.  He walked into the sanctuary to be with God.

    Here is what Be doesn’t care about…he doesn’t care what the average attendance is for the church…he doesn’t care how this church compares to the church down the street (he could have gone there if he wanted, but he didn’t)…he doesn’t care about who doesn’t like who or who doesn’t get along with someone else…he doesn’t want to hear gossip and he doesn’t want to be asked why he is there…he doesn’t want to feel like a stranger but knows he doesn’t quite fit in yet.

    What Be cares about…is God there.  Yep, that’s it.  He could give to his favorite cause without coming into the church.  He could have socialized with neighbors without ever stepping foot in the sanctuary.  He could have heard about the comparison in churches by sitting at the diner on Sunday after church.  All else fades away when one is welcomed into the presence of the Almighty.  He simply wants to meet God.  What would Be find in our churches today?

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  • Stepping Out of the Depths of Fear… (BLOG 4 of the series)

    From the last post (Step One-Retake), there are two important points I want to reiterate.  I think these are important for us if we are going to ever discover what it might look like for us to truly mean…we welcome all. The first of those points is that it begins with us…you and me.  It would be easy to sit around and theorize about what “the church” might do or how “they” aren’t getting it right or what “those people” fail to see.  It would likely make us feel better to talk about how others are the problem in the church becoming open to all.  It is always like that…easier to point out the faults of others.  But if anything is ever going to change, it begins with me.  That is one of the reasons I wanted to do this blog series.  I want to dig deep on how Brad might change…and pray that in the process you do the same…that you seek what might need to change about you. But, my concern is with me.  I can only change me…and if I begin to change, things around me begin to change.  I only have control of me…and that really is more than enough. 

    Second, I believe that fear is a big factor in what can hold us back…from being welcoming and loving…to anything else you might imagine.  Fear can stop us in our tracks…and sometimes we need to be stopped.  But at other times, fear comes on irrationally. We don’t really take the time to consider why we are afraid.  What is it about this person that makes me uncomfortable?  What is it deep within me that makes me have some level of comfort with people like me?  To fear what we do not understand is natural but doesn’t mean it is right or we should just accept it.  If we fear what we do not understand, that should lead us to gain understanding…to grow in our knowledge of different cultures and backgrounds.

    If I am uncomfortable sitting next to someone that is not like me, then that says to me I need to know more about others…different people groups and cultures.  To dig a little deeper still…I want to look at how this might show up based on my experiences and what I have heard others express – note: this is hypothetical and not a real experience. 

    I am sitting in church on Sunday.  All is as normal.  I am sitting in the same spot I have sat in since the day I arrived in the church, or close to it.  I am not opposed to moving seats, it is just that my friends sit near me and I feel at home where I am.  It is more out of habit than necessity.  This particular Sunday, a new couple come sit next to me.  They seem nice and I introduce myself.  I notice they have sat in the place where the Jones family normally sits.  They aren’t dressed quite like everyone else and they don’t look like everyone else.  I can hear them speak to each other and they are not speaking English.  What might be my thoughts?

    First, they have thrown off my normal vibe because now the Jones family will have to sit somewhere else. That is awkward, and I like having the Jones family near me.  And, I may wonder if they speak English well and why they would have chosen this church to come to…surely there are churches in ‘their’ language.  In the current political environment, I may wonder if they are here legally, even though that has nothing to do with them sitting in a house of worship.  And, I may wonder if they have an agenda for being here…what do they want? 

     All those feelings are fear based in some way, shape or form.  I don’t want my normal way of worship to be interrupted.  I like the Jones family sitting with me and I don’t want to open myself up to anyone else because it takes effort and I don’t know them.  I am worried about their language because I don’t know the language…and it is different.  It really isn’t that they speak 2 or more languages…it is that I barely speak 1.  I want them to speak English because English is what I know.  I want to know if they are here legally because somehow if they are, it makes me feel better about things…Even though it really doesn’t matter their status in the country…because in worship, we are called Children of God…we are of the same family.  And just because they are different doesn’t mean that they have any agenda except to come to a place of worship to…I don’t know…WORSHIP. 

    But you know what might change all this?  If I knew a family or a few families just like this couple…If I had spent time with people from their culture and understood more about that.  That would likely change me.  Let me explain how.

    If I spent time with people in the culture of this couple, I would understand what it meant to be welcoming…not overbearing, but hospitable.  I would make sure that they knew that there was a place for them here and that they were loved…not in a sentimental way, but in a sincere, Jesus way.  I would understand a bit about their language and maybe even know enough to provide some broken speech encouragement…another way to say I care and I’m trying.  I wouldn’t care why they were here but would make sure they knew this was a place they were accepted, just as they are.  I could do this because I would know people who were like them…and I would find that they are not so different from me.  I would realize that they are people just like me deep down…people that want to be loved and accepted and welcomed.  I would find that they have families and lives and seek to become a part of something bigger than themselves…yep, just like me.  I would find that they are not “them” but one of us…not that they need to act like me or dress like me or talk like me, but that they have the capacity to love just like me…because of Jesus.  I might just see them…like Jesus does.  And suddenly, I’m not so fearful anymore.

    What might it take for you to get to know a family from a different culture or background?

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