The country church was having an old-fashioned mission festival.
For a year, men and women of the parish had been planning, working,
cooking and cleaning for the expected influx of visitors. Missionaries
were brought in to recount their stories of global witnessing; speakers
were imported to enthuse, encourage and inspire. Everything had gone
according to plan. Even the weather seemed to cooperate, with sunny
skies and temperatures neither too hot nor too cold.
Everything
was perfect except for one fellow who hung around on the outskirts of
the festivities. His clothing was torn and tattered, his appearance
grimy and grubby. His face sported a week's worth of stubble. Those who
wandered near him were able to share, and they meant it quite literally,
"That guy stinks."
In short, the common consensus was the man was
not "one of them."
Understand, the man wasn't intrusive. He
didn't beg. He didn't drool when the plates of food were handed out. He
didn't bother the children or the women. He was just there. He never
participated; he never got involved.
Thankfully, he was often out
of mind, as the speakers were stupendous and the music, magnificent.
On the last day of the festival the congregation sang with greater
gusto than anyone could remember. Then came the moment they had waited
for: the message of mission.
That was when from the back of the
gathering wandered the fellow who was "not one of them." Wives whispered
to their husbands, "Somebody needs to stop him." Husbands nodded, but
nobody moved -- not when he reached the front of the meeting, or when he
stepped into the pulpit, or when he began to speak.
The man who
was not one of them said, "This week, I was physically among you, but
that was all. Nobody included me or invited me to the activities. No one
shared a meal. Yes, one person did give me a dollar bill, and two people
asked if I wanted to read a brochure about the church. But that was all.
Most of you averted your eyes and made me invisible."
Then the
man preached a wonderful sermon about how the Lord Jesus came to seek
and save all sinners.
Now the reason I share this story is
because I have had this man come to my churches. It's true, this man --
or one like him -- has shown up at every church where I have pastored,
every church where I have preached. I'm sure he has been at your church,
too.
The question is was he treated better, was he welcomed more
warmly, than he had been at that mission festival? I'm pleased to say
there have been times when my congregations have done a great job. That
fellow couldn't move five feet without someone asking about him,
welcoming him, encouraging him.
But there have also been times
when he was ignored, cold-shouldered, and passed by. The greeters talked
only to the people they already knew; the ushers busied themselves with
matters mundane. We should have done better. I pray in the future that
we, and you, will, in Jesus' Name, welcome everyone.
THE PRAYER:
Dear Lord Jesus, You reached out to leper and publican, adulterer and
cripple. No one then and nobody now can live beyond the scope of Your
love and blood-bought forgiveness. May we who know You reflect Your love
to others around us. In Your Name. Amen.
Pastor Ken
Klaus
Lutheran Hour Ministries All rights reserved;
not to be duplicated without permission.