I wonder if you can remember the last time you felt like an outsider. Maybe you were new somewhere and didn’t know anyone. Maybe you were sitting in on a conversation that didn’t make sense to you, and you didn’t feel comfortable asking for clarification. Maybe you were isolated from a community where you used to belong— cognitive dissonance or relational breakdown interrupted your sense of belonging.
This is where all of us begin the Christian journey: as outsiders. We are all vulnerable, unfamiliar or uncertain of our place before God. Some of us are downright hostile. But even while we were his enemies, Jesus died to make us his friends (Romans 5:7-8). The gospel is God’s profound welcome to us, whether or not we feel deserving or desirous of it at first. He prepares a table and invites us to come eat. In the scandal of grace, God flips the script and makes Himself the vulnerable one—He invites us to come in, knowing we may reject Him.
This is what we practice in Alpha. We go out of our way to show hospitality to the curious, the confused, the hostile and the hurting. We invite them to come and belong. We welcome their questions. We don’t try to fix their disillusionment. We listen; and in doing so, we learn from the God who speaks a better word than we ever could. That Word became flesh and dwelt among us. By His Spirit, He still does.
If you are longing for an experience of God’s radical welcome, or know someone who might benefit from it, try Alpha (signup here). And if you would like a prayer prompt for yourself or someone God loves, I commend the following poem to you.
Hannah+
Love (III)
by George Herbert
Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lacked any thing.
A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?
Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash