Katie, Jonathan, and I worshiped at our "old" church yesterday morning. The baby boy of close friends was being baptized, so it was a good opportunity to celebrate with them and see some of the people that we went to church with for so many years. We hadn't been back since last summer, before the wedding.
It was good to see everyone, to talk to and catch up with our friends. It was nice to see some new faces, too--people that had come since we left. As I spoke with my friend K, though, I was struck by how some of our simplest gestures can have an impact far greater than we could imagine. K told me about one of the new members, a young lady who was accompanying the congregation's singing on the piano that morning. The young woman, a college student, just officially had become a member of the church the week before.
The first Sunday she visited, K had noticed her. K told me, "Normally I don't feel comfortable talking to visitors. Others are so much better at it." (And I understand. I have trouble greeting newcomers myself. I'm not shy, but there's some kind of insecurity that makes me reluctant to approach visitors, even though I know I should.) But K started talking with her and found out the young woman was pleased to find a church that still had an organ and piano, that still sang hymns from a hymnal. K connected the young woman with her daughter, who is around the same age, and some of the other girls in that age group. And now, a few months later, the young woman had become a member of the church. When K congratulated her for becoming a member of the church, the young woman told her, "You're the reason I stayed." K's simple gesture of welcome and friendliness had made an eternal impact.
It reminded me of a similar situation a few years ago when I was also looking for a church home. I was a young widow at the time, with two small children. We were just coming away from the loss of a husband and daddy and were reeling from a bitter, ugly church split that had resulted in our beloved pastor's leaving. It was time for us to find a new church as well.
It's a difficult enough thing to go to a new church where you know no one when you're by yourself. But in some ways it's even more difficult with two young children along for the experience. We had visited one congregation for about a month, and I had ruled it out because there were very few children, and most of those were boys. We had spent several months visiting another small congregation, where there were more children, but very few boys Jonathan's age. Finally, a minister friend had suggested we try what was then Beverly United Reformed Church. He thought it might be a good fit for us.
I had only ever attended small churches, and the crowd there in the school gym where the church was meeting while their new building was under construction was a little overwhelming. There were plenty of children, it seemed, and some warm welcomes. I began to think that this was perhaps the place for us, so we kept visiting, kept meeting people. But what finally made me know that this was the place was an elder who came and spoke with me, learning about who we were and what our situation was. As our conversation concluded, he looked at me with complete sincerity and said, "I hope you'll join our church." That did it. Eventually, we did. And that elder continued to be an encouragement through the years at that church, taking a special interest in my fatherless children, talking with them, playfully teasing them at times, showing them the love of a shepherd's heart.
And so I thought about the great significance of being what DHP author Randy Kilgore calls a ten-minute Christian. He's not suggesting a superficial approach, but rather simply acknowledging that sometimes that's all we have to leave an impression of Christ with someone, to show love and hospitality. And we have to make the most of those times, like K and like the elder that showed us so much kindness years ago. James talks about how great a matter a little fire can kindle, in reference to the damage that the tongue can inflict. How much more can the tongue then work for good, as we show hospitality and love for those that we come into contact with?
"A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver" (Proverbs 25:11).
3 comments:
Thanks for this very important lesson! I have a hard time greeting newcomers because I am shy, but after reading this I will try harder! I suppose it's like this wherever we go. We should be kind and engaging with everyone because we never know if that someone might really be needing a friendly and kind person's love that day! (Even that grouchy cashier at the store!)
It was wonderful seeing your smiling face at church Sunday! You have definitely made my days brighter in the past couple of years! Thank You!
I find it one of the greatest ironies of the church that people who are capable of forming mission teams and serving strangers in strange lands struggle so much with walking up to a stranger at their home church who happens to look very much like them and even speaks the same language! I'll never forget our first elder visit at TURC - he invited us to Russ' which made us very at ease - to this day Mr. VanderLaan's smile warms my heart.
We're quite glad to have you worshipping in our building by the way - Bethany's loss is most certainly TURC's gain.
Alicia--I honestly have a hard time with it too, which is why I think this person's story made an impression on me. I really need to do better! And it was so good to see you and Gavin--and everybody! I'm so glad we have gotten to know each other.
And thanks, Leah--people like the Guis family who are so welcoming have made our transition much easier! Even though we miss our old friends, we are enjoying our new place.
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