Sunday morning found the Atkinson family visiting a church for the first time. We chose an older Episcopal church in our city that is well known for having a high and traditional worship service. Before going we checked their website and found that there was a Bible study for middle and high school students as well as a couple of study options for adults. We got there early to attend the Bible studies before worship.
When we arrived, we found the youth room empty and the lights turned out. We were told that the church doesn’t have youth Bible study on Sundays during the summer. I was a little put out that the website had not made this clear. Church insiders would know, of course, but visitors have no way of knowing.
The irony (and hypocrisy) of this is that when I was the pastor of Covenant Baptist Church, we didn’t have Bible study during summers either. And our website was NEVER up-to-date enough to reflect this. I always said that a church has better things to do than constantly update their website.
The girls came with us to the adult Bible study. We were a bit late and there weren’t enough chairs for the four of us to sit together with the class, so we sat at a table in the back. I picked up a copy of the printed lesson on the way in, but it turned out to be two weeks old. Everyone else seemed to have the current lesson, but there were none left for us. I was distracted because my kids were clearly bored with the adult class and sat staring off into space. And without the texts to read, I found it hard to stay engaged as well.
The class was discussing an Old Testament passage about welcoming strangers into the community. Various people stood and made comments about this. I’m ashamed to say that initially my mind was working in negative ways. I wondered if anyone noticed that there were strangers present that morning, sitting in the back, struggling to keep up with what was going on while dealing with bored teenagers.
And then I experienced what some people call a moment of clarity. I can take no credit for it, since I was in a negative frame of mind and clearly not being generous in spirit.
I think what caught my attention was the passion with which the teacher, a priest at the church named Jane, was interacting with the class. And they were deeply engaged with what she was saying. They took turns sharing from their hearts about what it would mean to welcome and love strangers. When someone spoke, Jane would run over to them with a microphone so that everyone could hear. They were learning what it means to be God’s people.
In that moment I heard from Jesus. I heard from Jesus as clearly as if he had tapped me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear. This is what Jesus said to me:
Gordon, these are my beloved children. They are my Church, and you are being very unkind to them. They are here, broken and wounded as you are, seeking to grow, seeking to become and be the body of Christ, seeking to be made into a new creation in my image. And look at my servant Jane. How she loves them. How she believes in them. How passionately she teaches the gospel to them. If Jane believes in them and I believe in them, perhaps you could believe in them too.
And surely I don’t need to remind you of your church’s website and summer schedule and the time that a man came for Bible study and felt so unwelcome he didn’t stay for church.
My heart was broken – thanks be to God – and in that instant I loved the people in that class. Suddenly the lack of Bible study materials was a silly oversight. And they were so caught up in their lesson about welcoming strangers that I knew – I just KNEW that the minute the class was over, when they realized there were strangers among them, we would be embraced.
And of course we were. People said hello, and Jane made a special point of finding us and telling us how glad she was that we were there. I was put to shame and felt sorry for what I had thought. And then, in a contrite spirit, I was well prepared for worship. The beauty and the careful execution of their formal worship, along with the gorgeous language of the Book of Common Prayer, broke my heart open with joy. I wept through much of the service.
It was the most meaningful worship I have experienced in years.
We went to church that Sunday hoping to find grace. We did, but first I had to find it in my own heart.
Gordon Atkinson
The photo is from a royalty free collection and was edited by Gordon Atkinson
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“We went to church that Sunday hoping to find grace. We did, but first I had to find it in my own heart.” Wow, that rocks. Just about sums it all up for me. Great post and thanks for being humble enough to share.
such good words for me to hear this morning. i know this story as you do, gordon…from both sides of the table. as a ministry family missing the mark from time to time (much more frequently than i care to admit, truth be told) and as a visitor sometimes looked over, sometimes embraced, often critical until God breaks through my fog of – well, it’s pride, isn’t it? – and let’s me see me as i am. and God as God is.
this post returns a prayer to my heart: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
Deidra,
The famous Jesus prayer from The Way of a Pilgrim. It is one of my heart prayers too, and I often recite it quietly to myself, over and over.
I enjoyed this post and also the way you translated it into your own words, Deidra!
Ooh, you rebuke me, Gordon. But I needed it. Thank you.
This is a lesson for all of us, Gordon. We’ve all been there — on both sides — regular church member and visitor. And speaking from personal experience on both sides, we do a terrible job of welcoming strangers in our midst. We’re too busy rushing to “do ministry” and forget that the “ministry” may actually be staring at us, nervous at not know ing a soul in the place, and beginning to look for a fast exit.
But to make the leap — the God-led leap — to loving the people in the class, well, that’s something I for one need to do a lot more of. Thanks for this.
As an Episcopalian I still cringe a little at the story. I want us to be so much better than we sometimes are but it’s a very human denomination. As a youth minister in TEC I’m sorry we don’t always take care of the needs of the youth as well as we might. At the same time most Episcopal churches step back during the summer months from youth ministry.
The website oversight struck particularly close to home since I just discovered that a website for which I am responsible is currently showing information that is TWO YEARS out of date.
Mea culpa
Mea culpa
Mea maxima culpa
Glad you found good worship with my brothers and sisters in San Antonio.
Peace
Jay
Dear Jay,
I hope you read this as I hoped it would be read – as a comment about my own lack of grace and my own lack of hospitality. I think the church we visited is just fine. Lovely place. I’m sure I’ll go back again.
And this: The churches in the vast family of Christendom who carry some of our oldest rituals and rites and who guard our worship and language will never be as user friendly as the latest “Community Family Friendship Church” out on the loop. You can’t guard the liturgy and have people comfortable and participating fully in 10 minutes.
So I pray that you will be good Episcopalians. Stretch toward hospitality, yes, but guard the faith as well. If disciples aren’t willing to put some effort into learning what it means to be an Episcopalian, well, maybe they aren’t ready.
Good one, Gordon. I was talking with some friends last night that I have a lot of trouble understanding grace–but I think you’ve painted a good picture of it. Grace isn’t stupid. It doesn’t ignore problems. The website could be better. The handouts could have been shared. Visiting youth needed a place, even in the summer.
All of those elements could be better. And maybe they should be better.
And yet, grace allows us to be excited about the places where someone succeeds. There is time enough for criticism. Grace is about celebration. Just thinking out loud here.
you were listening…
way to go, brother.
God sure has His way to teach us,
even without our updated copy of a printed lesson.
through our brokenness.
through relationship, time,
and his Spirit speaking to ours.
~
websites should have a statement
informing readers
that it is updated
by a human,
in fact,
a lackey,
and so
to proceed
to read
with caution.
Nancy, at one time our website had something like that. When you clicked on “The news” there was nothing there but a statement that said,
Unfortunately, we’re so busy living the news that we can’t find anyone to stop long enough to write about it here. If you want to know what is going on, call our pastor at his home. He’ll talk to you.
My phone number was listed. My mobile number. I think we earned the right to be sloppy with our willingness to engage in a traditional communication method.
The other thing we used to have was a link called “goodbye.” If you clicked on it there was a lovely picture of three little girls running away. My daughter was one of them. It said, “Going so soon? Oh well, it was nice to have you hear for a time. We hope to get to know you in person someday, if you ever visit us.”
I kind of liked that too.
Gordon,
I simply cherish your posts .
And I’ve been hearing Jesus over the din of my own hypocrisy lately. Sigh.
I spend countless hours mulling and praying and learning and writing about community . And the tolerance and compassion and love and grace therein.
When I’m not lipping to whoever is in earshot about the assorted and latest neighbour issues that I’ve simply no tolerance for that is.
Let peace begin with me and all that….
Wow, thanks Deb.
Yeah, I cringe too when I hear about failings like that, but yay! for you finding grace and meaningful worship. That’s redemption at work, right there.
Thoroughly enjoyed this honest account of some divine business being transacted in advance of worship. God is still working in/on all of us. Thanks.
Gordon, as a Baptist turned Episcopalian you have no idea how much it makes my heart glad to hear that others find the grace and beauty of the church. Your writing captured part of what I like so much about the Episcopal Church: despite our faults and with them, we seek to be people engaged with what it means to be Christ. Essentially I came for the liturgy, but I found so much more when I met the people.
Gordon — In this one story, you have shown us what it means to be the body. Acknowledging and accepting each other in weakness and shame, and doing the best we can to show each other hospitality. This story dripped grace by the end.
I thought Marcus’ observation was good, too. Grace doesn’t deny what could be better. It just says I’ll love you anyway.
I love that God planted a seed of grace in your heart and then grew a garden of grace around you.
Finding grace is one thing. Breaking it like bread and sharing hunks of it with others, that is entirely something else. Something better. Something nourishing.
Thank you.
Blessings.
I read Gordon Atkinson to remind myself that not all Christians are like the ones I see on TV or in the halls of congress.
Thanks for this Gordon. I am too often not good at being gracious, which is one of the reasons for the title of my blog. The other is that I am also not always good at receiving or recognising grace. The struggle goes on, but the results are worth it, as you have amply demonstrated here.
Beautiful.
Confessional.
Grace.
Ouch. In a beautiful way.
But you know, I wouldn’t call a pastor I didn’t know at home just to see what was happening.
My mom grew up Catholic and my dad was Lutheran, so they decided to get married in an Episcopal church. I grew up mostly unchurched–except for Baptist friends who invited me to VBS and camp one summer.
My dad once did some carpentry work for a nearby Episcopal church. He liked that the priest smoked a pipe–down to earth. So they decided to take us one Sunday morning.
We were the ONLY ones there. Finally Dad went looking for the priest to discover they only had one service in the summer–and not at the time we were there. The priest came out and “did church” just for us. It was weird. Uncomfortable.
They never went to church again.
I haven’t thought about that for a long time.
Sandra,
Couple of nice observations. Thanks. You’re right. No one EVER called me when my phone number was on the website. I think it’s way too much intimacy. I thought (and think) of myself as just a person. Why wouldn’t people call me? But to those outside, I was a priest/shaman/preacher/whatever. There’s a lot of baggage with that role.
Your own story is sad and fascinating and reminds me again that there is no way to make things right for everyone. The priest clearly went out of his way to make you feel welcome, but it was weird and uncomfortable and then you never went back. Sometimes we church insiders try really hard to connect with those outside of the church but we just can’t. I don’t know what to do with that, really. I keep thinking about it though.
And also perceived as very busy.
I’ve called “strange” church offices before for information.
My church has very up-to-date site. But some days could be uncomfortable for visitors that might somehow miss that this Sunday we will only meet for ten minutes–and then go out and minister in the community. Deliver 5000 cookies or something.
And as far as my parents. It wasn’t the priest. It was them. All we can do is reach out as best we can, sow some seeds, pray, give some love–and leave the rest to God. It’s ultimately His responsibility, really. He’s got me. He’s still working on them.
I have been there. Done that. These are good words heading into the weekend. Thanks.
Were you writing for me? You were, weren’t you?
It’s truly pathetic, what a bundle of hypocrisy I am. Thank you Jesus for loving me anyway.
Thank you Gordon for writing something so convicting. I write of love, acceptance, Christ-following, and yet when it boils down to it, I am guilty of the lack of what I write about. In this season of life, my husband and I are frequent church visitors, and I cannot enter one without making negative comments. Thank you for waking me up to my judgmental attitude, and for reminding me to get that enormous 2×4 out of my eye!
Powerful words, Gordon. Thank you so much!
I’m guilty of negative thoughts while visiting a church too, but then I ask myself am I willing to become the obvious solution?
Ouch. Yes, I’m internalizing this. Now. At least until church tomorrow. Then, hopefully, I will remember and start with grace again. Thanks, Gordon.
Another wonderful post, Gordon. I was convicted about how often I make snap judgements–of people, of churches, of even God (when He makes decisions I don’t like). May we all have ears to hear, and the courage to share what we learn.
Thanks!
Yeah…cold calling at a new church can be one of the most awkward engagements, or lack thereof, ever. I visited a local Episcopal church on Palm Sunday a year ago. Reminded me why such experiences are an interesting study of how people deal with uninvited guests at their familiar worship gathering. For the non-liturgical saint, the order of service can be intimidating. For the most part though, gracious saints did attempt to minimize my sense of being a stranger that could not escape notice. And they coached me on the processional before service & engaged me in small talk. Being raised Catholic & wondering if I could ever rejoin a liturgical faith expression, this attempt did help me decide that no, it was not for me. But I do remember the level of participation of those saints & how they had a vibrant community that I do think would not have been too difficult to be included into had I simply made such intention known…
RLP–thanks so much for this. It’s a good reminder to those of us in parish ministry to THINK about how to be welcoming to “the stranger.” (I’m married to an Episcopal priest.)
FYI-There is an old joke in Episcopal Church circles about summer schedules: “Episcopalians are the only ones God trusts enough to give the summer off.”
We really do it because most of us can’t afford a full-time children’s minister and with vacation schedules, we have a hard time finding enough volunteer coordinators/helpers–not to mention children–to do Sunday School. We’re not big on guilt, so people don’t feel bad about missing a few Sundays over the summer.
Thank you for your kindness in recognizing that most people are doing the best they can. To me, that is the true mark of following Christ–giving others the benefit of the doubt.
Pax,
Doxy