Don’t
show favouritism. Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and
fine clothes, and a poor man in shabby clothes also comes in. If you show
special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say “Here’s a good seat
for you”, but say to the poor man, “You stand there” or “Sit on the floor by my
feet”, have you not discriminated among yourselves...?
James 2:1-4
I visited a church recently where Bibles and other bits
and pieces were given out. The lady at the door succeeded in doing this without
(a) making any kind of eye contact with me, or (b) interrupting a conversation
she was having with her friend over her shoulder. For a moment I felt like
turning round and heading off the way I had come (possibly after telling her she
could stick her Bibles and other things up her jumper - in Christian love, of
course).
I was pretty cross. I felt that to her I wasn’t a person,
just a thing. Occasionally I have come across this kind of treatment in the
supermarket or the bank, though even here I generally find people friendly and
helpful. Oh well, at least she wasn’t wearing a “Welcoming team” or “Can I help
you?” badge.
I went to that church as a Christian. But suppose I had
been a non-Christian? a sceptic? someone genuinely seeking the truth? someone
in serious need - ill, perhaps, or depressed, even suicidal? Those two or three
seconds of rudeness could have done lasting damage.
Well, the scenario James presents us with is rather
different, but it raises the same principle: the way we welcome people to our
meetings and services matters, and
matters very much.
Of course some churches go too far the other way. The
unwary visitor is submerged under a great tidal wave of Christian jolliness, a
kind of gleeful evangelical gloop. The badges here don’t just declare “Here to
help you!” but they have a big smiley face as well.
To some this can be equally off-putting. I know someone,
a regular church-goer, who hates that bit in some services where everyone is
expected to go and greet their fellow-worshippers. Is it any sin to be “a bit
buttoned up”, as he describes himself? He even finds the “passing of the
peace”, Anglican style, more than he really wants.
The key words in all this are, I think, “balance” and
“sensitivity”.
Balance means that we offer a sincere welcome without
overdoing it - a handshake, perhaps, a smile, a quiet word. Sensitivity means
recognising that that thing that has just come through the door is actually a person, a human being, someone who
laughs and cries, who asks questions and makes mistakes, who loves and, yes,
sometimes hates, who has ambitions and desires, experiences of success and of
failure. Someone, in fact - just like you or me.
I am sure that having a welcoming team complete with an
appropriate badge is helpful. But it does carry with it a danger - that is,
that people not on the welcoming team
subconsciously think that they needn’t bother with this most vital ministry.
This is very wrong. It is the job of every one of us to have an eye for the
visitor. A little human warmth could change somebody’s life for ever. An
attempt at friendliness, however shy and awkward, could be the first step in a relationship
that lasts for the next twenty, thirty, forty years. All right, not everybody
finds it easy. But so what? Just do it!
Always
remember - that person you are face to face with, whatever the circumstances,
church or wherever, is the most important thing in the universe at that moment,
infinitely precious to God, and therefore precious also to you.
When our two boys were small we were on holiday once and
saw a sign outside a church: “Your welcoming church!” Well, that suits us just
fine, we thought, and made a bee-line there the next Sunday. And nobody so much
as spoke to us. Nobody. Not going in. Not coming out. Nobody.
Ever since that experience I have detested the habit of
self-advertisement, self-praise. If there are compliments to be paid, let them
be paid by others, not by ourselves. Others, after all, are in a far better
position to judge.
That story has a little sequel. When we got back to our
holiday cottage we found that our older son, aged about 4, was clutching in his
grubby fist a car which he had obviously filched from the crèche. We were, gasp,receivers of stolen goods! But do you know
something? - our pangs of guilt lasted no more than a millisecond. How wicked can you get!
Perhaps we would have felt different if somebody had given us a greeting that
day...
Lord
Jesus, please help me to see every person I ever have contact with, however
briefly, as made in your image and loved by you. Amen.
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