ETA: I misnamed Ms. Ally Henny in this article & have corrected it. My apologies for misnaming her.
I follow people in social media, and try hard to follow people who give me insight into their worlds that I don’t see. I follow people all over the world, mostly English speakers (but I throw in other languages and attempt to puzzle out their meaning with translation tools).
Most of the people I follow are here in North America, specifically in the United States of America, and one them recently posted a blog entry about “Leaving Home.” (You can read it here: https://thearmchaircommentary.com/2019/09/22/leaving-home/) It is the story of Ally Henny and her family’s struggle with a white church that ultimately could not accommodate her Black family.
I gotta confess, these stories grieve me. They are a reminder to me of all that the church should not be—a church should not be a place cannot accept you when you go there. A church should not be a place where you are not made welcome. A church should not be a place where you leave as exhausted as when you arrived.
There is a model of the church in my head that I think is the right model, that I strive to build and participate in, that is the place where I will gladly bring my friends from all over the world. That church is a place of safety and embrace and love. It is a place that sees you completely, acknowledges all your wonderful quiddities, gives you hope and strength and joy, helps you meet the risen Jesus of love and peace. It is the kind of church that I believe I attend, and where I serve because I want my friends and family to meet the Jesus who has met me.
I grieve over my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ—from the most senior to the babes in arms—who find that their church environment has become toxic to them. Right now I have a lot of friends who have discovered they are not welcome—too loud, too opinionated, too divisive, too focused on “their” things and not upon the direction of the pastor, too triggered, too complaining, too “too.” They’ve come to their churches—sometimes they are directly invited!—to be in the church and to bring all their very selves. Then they find out that what is wanted is for their placement, for their image that the bring to the church to show that it is diverse and trendy and millennial or whatever.
My friends figure this out, that they are not wanted. Sure, it’s great to have a church that represents the global community, but soon they realize that who they are isn’t desired. It’s only what the church looks like because they’re there.
These people are intelligent, capable, emotionally aware people, and they figure out that they’re marginalized. They figure out that the voices from the pulpit never quite reach to their pews and to their life circumstances and their hopes and dreams and fears.
It makes me sad and angry that my friends are abused this way. No one should feel extra in church. Everyone should feel seen and loved and cherished. And when we are not—we get wounded and tired and sad. And we leave, either to try again elsewhere—or maybe we just give up.
I’d hope we all can learn to do better. To inquire into ourselves about not only our motives, but also our actions. To take a hard look at our behaviors and priorities. To ask ourselves, “Are we the welcoming family of God to our neighbors, or are we only going to bring people in if they stay in the boxes that give them value to us?”
Let’s examine ourselves, and check to see whether our church is a home that shuts its doors to the unexpected.