Later, as Jesus was dining at Matthew’s house, many tax collectors and sinners came and ate with Him and His disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they asked His disciples, “Why does your Teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” On hearing this, Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” Matthew 9:10-13 BSB
Early on a Sunday morning nearly fifty years ago, I woke up face down on the floor of my apartment living room. As my matted eyes began to clear, I saw my glasses on the floor next to the coffee table, which was flipped on its side. Apparently I had quite a Saturday night, though I couldn’t really remember it. Following my usual panic-driven ritual on such occasions, I staggered to the window to look for my car. Thankfully it was in the lot and appeared to be in one piece.
This was not an uncommon scenario. My addictions were ganging up on me and driving me toward my final crash. That morning, however, instead of reaching for the hair of the dog, I had a sudden thought: “Virgil, you need help.” Being Sunday, I decided I would go to church. I have no idea why, other than sheer desperation. I cleaned up as best I could and headed to a very nice denominational building just down the street.
When I got there, I felt incredibly out of place. The pews were filled with well-groomed, suburban families. I don’t remember anyone speaking to me. I was a little shaky, but I survived the very short service. As was traditional in many churches, the pastor stood at the exit shaking hands with people as they left. When I walked up, he took a step backward and did not offer his hand. I got the message. Church didn’t want me.
To be fair, in the midst of that squeaky-clean crowd in their Sunday best, I wasn’t much of a prospect. At that time I was 6’4″ and 210 pounds of sweaty, shaky, and probably smelly sinner deluxe. My hair was long and a bit greasy. I had on a western shirt, cowboy boots, my best jeans, and a shiny-buckled belt. They were probably terrified.
Years later, when I became a pastor, that experience came to mind almost every Sunday. It breaks my heart when I see someone walk through the door and make it all the way to a seat without a single person saying, “Hello.” Who knows what that person had to overcome just to get there? I can’t know the story of everyone who shows up on a given Sunday, but I can guarantee that Jesus is glad they are there. I should be, too.
Scripture Reading: Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God. (Romans 15:7 ESV)
Somebody Said: “It will be an evil day for any church when it despises any class of men. There will come a curse upon a church that looks to men’s garments and purses, and values them according to the guinea stamp.” — Charles Spurgeon
Here’s the point: All of us are more comfortable with people who look like us. We go to church and get excited about seeing our friends. We get tunnel vision. This week, make an effort to look past your own fears, needs, and convenience. It only takes a minute to shake a hand. Not doing so can impact someone’s eternity. Welcome somebody you don’t know, someone who looks uneasy, or—if you want to get really crazy—someone you don’t like. God will be both pleased and glorified.
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