what makes me uncomfortable is the Judgment that minimizes me as a child of God. I remember once I attended this large popular church with two active pastors. They asked me what I did for a living. I asked why they wanted to know. They wanted to see where I could contribute in the church-note they did not ask if I was saved or not. I told them I was a security guard. They literally looked at each other with a look of "nope nothing there" and turned their backs on me and walked away. I was heartbroken. it wasn't the first time this has happened
Really?
The preacher of a particularly well to do church in town was cleaning up his sermon notes from the pulpit one Sunday after the morning service when he noticed a farmer approaching him up the center isle of the church, wearing a particularly well used set of overalls still tucked into his soiled farm boots.
"May I help you?", asked the preacher.
"I'd like to become a member here", replied the farmer. Thinking for a moment and deciding that the farmer would not fit in well with the rest of the congregation, the preacher said:
"Well, I'd like you to go home and pray about it each day for a week, and if you still want to become a member of this church, come back and we'll talk about it". He bid the farmer good bye, fully expecting to never see him again.
A week later, the preacher was once again tidying his pulpit after Sunday service when, to his surprise, he saw the same farmer, in the same overalls and boots, aproaching him down the same center isle of the church.
"Well, did you do as I asked?" the preacher inquired.
"I did" said the farmer. "Each day this week, I asked God what he thought about my family and me joining this church".
"And what did he say to you?" replied the preacher, condescendingly.
The farmer answered "He said that if I could get in then that would be great for me, because he's been trying to get in for years but hasn't been able to"
the joke reminds me of a poem I had saved from years ago:
The Stranger by Fred Z.
He walked in through the back door and sat in the very last pew.His presence went unnoticed, with the exception of a few. I noticed him walk in, but he never said a word.There were lots of people talking, but his voice I never heard.This man was middle aged, his hair was long and brown.People stared disgustingly; the turned quietly back around.His jeans were torn and faded, their color worn away.I felt sorry for this man, that life had treated him this way.I thought he'd probably ask for money, those people are all the same.If he only knew who Jesus was, his life would surely change.And when the service ended, and conversations began,you could see them point their finger, as they whispered about the man.He saw them point their fingers, he looked so out of place.And as he stood there watching, a tear ran down his face.I don't know how he heard us, it wasn't meant for him to hear;but when he left the church, his eyes were filled with tears.And just like no one noticed, this man entering the church;it seemed that no one noticed, that this man was really hurt.I ran outside to catch him, I said, "Stranger, please hold on".He said, "Yes, I am a stranger to you my son."I said, "I'm sorry for our behavior." and went to shake his hand;when I noticed a scar that was on it, he said, "Now do you know who I am?"I asked Him, "Who are you?" He answered, "You already know."These scars were made for you almost two thousand years ago."I fell to His feet in shame, I couldn't believe what I had done.The one that we made fun of, was the Father's precious Son."Every person you treat like that, it might as well be me;Know they are my children, and I am in them you see."In you I am disappointed, and for the others, it's the same,if you only knew who Jesus was; your life would surely change!Jesus Cares, God loves you, and so do we !
The first time I walked into my church I was wearing torn overalls and a flannel shirt.
When we first moved to SC, we owned our land, but we didn't have a house. We had the promise of a house (mobile home) that was to come within a few days of us getting here, but were met with broken promises, new problems and the beginning of this recession when we arrived. We couldn't find work, and were told that we may actually lose the house that we thought was secured before moving here. We lived in a tent. We cooked and warmed ourselves with an open campfire. We bathed in a 55 gal drum. Our then 7 year old would get on the school bus stinking like smoke from the fire and get picked on by the other kids. We had our truck, the tent, one working outlet, a well with one working spigot, a handful of laying hens, a radio, a bible and each other. We had a small savings, which was rapidly dwindling and we were scarred. Often, while we were in town, looking for work, we would dig through the dumpster at the market to find greens and vegetables to feed the animals. It's embarrassing, but we would often cut off the non-rotten parts for ourselves. We lived this way for several months. It was late autumn and the weather was getting colder. The colder it got, the more scared we became. I wouldn't say we were homeless, but it's as close as I ever hope to know what it's like. By His grace my wife found work first at the local Piggly Wiggly. Because she had a job, we were able to finally get the house, but we were still deep in a hole. Our savings gone, credit cards maxed and only my wife's part-time job to support us, as soon as we got the house we were in danger of losing it.
Anyway, the reason I'm sharing all of this is that it was during this period of struggling that we began to attend our current church home. I know what it's like to not have anything to wear to church but farm clothes. I know what it's like to feel like you have absolutely nothing to contribute. I know what it's like to sit with your family, among all those fancy suits and dresses and just feel pure shame because of having nothing nice for your family to wear. I often hear arguments about how not sprucing up for church may cause your brothers to stumble, but I wonder sometimes if the guy in the thousand dollar suit stops to consider how he's making the guy who can't afford a tie feel. This is how I felt on my own, without the ruddiness and insensitivity of others, I can imagine how it would be if we had been outwardly rejected.
I can remember the first time I walked through those doors with my family. Feeling very much like you're describing now. So certain that it was a mistake. So certain that we would be judged or not fit in. So certain that I was about to embarrass myself and my family. That I would embarrass God. I was terrified.
The folks at our church...never batted an eye. Never once said a word about our dress. Never once made any judgement of us. Never once reacted to seeing the fraying of our clothes or that we still smelled like smoke. They brought us bags of clothes and said they would only be thrown out anyway. Had poundings (old-fashioned term where the women in church would get together and each donate a "pound" of this or a "pound" of that) and filled our truck with food. Had love offerings during the service and raised money to give us, without question, without condition or expectation. They bought Christmas presents for our boys and left them anonymously. When I still couldn't find a job and decided to take the only work I could find driving a truck OTR and was gone for weeks at a time, the men (including the Preacher) came over to help my pregnant wife with the land. The woman visited daily to help cook and clean. One of the deacons found me a job with the state, with benefits and I was able to come back home off the road. Never once did any of these people make us feel like we were indebted to them. That we owed anything to them or to the church. No one ever gave me a tie or even once implied that I should wear one on Sundays.
Needless to say, we're very fond of our church.
I sometimes wonder if it's not more than coincidence that these two verses are so close to each other in Luke:
Luke 20:45 - 21:4 (ESV) said:
Beware of the Scribes
45 And in the hearing of all the people he said to his disciples, 46"Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and love greetings in the marketplaces and the best seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at feasts, 47 who devour widows’ houses and for a pretense make long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.
The Widow’s Offering
1 Jesus looked up and saw the rich putting their gifts into the offering box, 2and he saw a poor widow put in two small copper coins. 3And he said, "Truly, I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all of them. 4For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on."
Listen, maybe it’s me, but I think I’d rather go to church to worship, raise my hands and smell whiskey and BO on the guy next to me than fancy cologne and a freshly pressed suit, because you know what – that’s a church where God is on the job! That this guy is even there, stinking like sin means that God has got His work clothes on. Sleeves rolled up working on that man’s heart. I think I’d rather sit next to a homosexual or a drug addict or a prostitute then to sit next to an empty pew. Being a Christian can be dirty work, but I think that God prefers dirty pews to empty pews.
It’s as if sometimes we think that the building we choose to meet at each Sunday is constructed of some sort of holy bricks and being held together by sacred mortar. They’re not. In fact the building just a marker. A meeting place. Coordinates for those who would come together to worship Him to find each other. Aren’t we ourselves the church? That is that, it is the whole body; the Doctor in the fancy suit, the farmer in his overalls, the homosexual and the guy with whiskey on his breath, all together that we are raising up to him. We’re all stinky like sin before God and there isn’t any hiding it either. Not with mouthwash or fancy suits or shinny new shoes or having the biggest bible or singing the loudest in church or donating the most money to the church. We all stink and He loves us anyway. How cool is that? How awesome is the God that we serve? That He can see past our clothes and hairdos and manicures and peer directly into our hearts. That the gift of our love is what has value to him and not the wrapping paper that does. Why would we want it to be any other way? Because maybe the guy with the hangover sitting next to me can't smell or see or speculate about the sin in my own heart, but Christ can. Just as plain as I can smell what he had to drink last night. Just as plain as I can see what he wore to church this morning, Jesus can see what I’m wearing on my heart.
Rafiel, don't ever let anyone make you feel as if you're wrong for wanting to worship God or to be in fellowship with his other children. That you are somehow less deserving to do so then they are. Because you know what Brother; You're not. I'm not. They're not. None of us are. That's the point! None of us deserve to be there, it's only through His grace and love for us alone, that we are able to do so. So listen here Bo, because this is important; if you EVER walk into a church and find that the people there are not absolutely overjoyed that you are there with them, then you turn your happy, God loving hind side around and you walk you to the next church. Those people will have done you a favor by letting you know upfront that it was not the kind of church you're interested in, and in the end, it will be them, not you, who were at fault.
Edited to say: I'm sorry for that coming off so angry. Especially in the New Christians Forum. I really hope I didn't scare anybody. That literally infuriates me that a servant of God, consciously or unconsciously, would choose to do that to you! Because it's certainly not how Christ envisioned the church.