His response was to quickly assure people that everyone is welcome at his church.
I would like to believe that's true.
And I've heard many, many other pastors use similar language of welcome--everyone is welcome here. Many church websites also make this same blanket assurance.
I just worry that in our rush as pastors to assure people that they will be welcome, we're not taking their questions as seriously as we ought.
For a while last year, I attended worship at a local United Church. The congregation was in the process of discerning whether or not to become an 'affirming congregation.' For them, the question was not whether they were prepared to be welcoming to people of all sexual orientations and gender identities--those were questions that the congregation had long since worked through together.
Instead, they were taking this process seriously as an invitation to assess whether they were ready to welcome and offer full inclusion to all people. Was the building accessible to people with physical disabilities impacting their mobility? Was gluten-free communion available, so as to offer people with celiac disease and gluten intolerance the opportunity to fully participate in worship, including communion?
I was deeply impressed, as a visitor listening in to snatches of this conversation among the people of this congregation, and when I moved on, it was with a deep desire to be part of a church that takes welcome as seriously as this congregation did. Their example is one that I hold onto, and frankly I hope to see more of the Body of Christ wrestling with this as honestly as they were.
Because I've spent some time in the past year or two visiting different churches, and wondering, "Will I be welcome here?" And I'm not looking for a pat, "Of course you will be."
What would be really meaningful would be for someone to slow down long enough to wonder about my reason for asking. Because, frankly, we're not asking just because. I suspect many of us have had experiences where we felt unwelcome, and we're hesitant because we're afraid of being hurt again.
When I ask if I'll be welcome, I want to know if there will be room for me to fully participate along with the other members of the body of Christ in this place. I want to know if I'll be welcomed as a woman who has been hurt in the past when there wasn't space for me to fully exercise the gifts that God has given me. Others want to know if they will be able to be open about who they are, or if they will need to hide their sexuality in order for them to make a home here. Still others want to know if they will be welcome because they cannot afford to dress the way the majority of people in the congregation dress, or to drive the types of vehicles that fill the parking lot, or to place sizeable donations in the offering plate. And some want to know if they'll be able to be honest about the struggles of depression and anxiety, or if they will have to pretend everything is okay.
We have different reasons for asking, but it's a serious question and one that we hope you'll take seriously before you give us the quick Sunday school answer.
Because at the root of it all lies a deeper question, and we hope that your answer will be clear in both your words and in your actions: Will God welcome me, just as I am? Or will I have to dress up parts of myself for God, too, in order to be accepted?
Our answers deserve careful thought. Because they matter.
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