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"The Lord appeared to Abraham near the great trees of Mamre while he was sitting at the entrance to his tent in the heat of the day."
It is early afternoon. The sun is high in the sky. The heat is beating down. And Abraham is where he usually is this time of day. He is sitting at the entrance to his tent. That is where the shade is, and that is where Abraham goes this time of day to rest and reflect and be rejuvenated for the rest of his day.
It wouldn't be all that surprising if Abraham has his head down and his eyes closed, but he doesn't. Most days no one new passes by, but Abraham keeps his eyes open just in case, because for Abraham hospitality to strangers is second nature.
Hebrews 13:2 says, "Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by doing so some people have entertained angels without knowing it." This is a clear reference to Abraham's experience that day at Mamre.
I remember the very first time I entered this sanctuary on a Sunday morning for worship. It was before I moved to Michigan, before Michigan was my home. It was before I became Calvary's pastor, before Calvary was my home. It was a fine spring day in 2002 when I worshipped with you for the first time at the invitation of the pastor nominating committee and the session. I was a stranger here.
One of the most wonderful things about that day was that, even though I was a stranger, I was invited. I didn't find my way to Calvary all by myself. There were a couple of people who recognized me and whom I recognized. I knew that they were glad that I was here. I knew that they were rooting for me to fit in, and that they would introduce me to others.
I was a regular church-goer already, more specifically I was a regular Presbyterian church-goer, so I knew, more or less, what to expect. Even though I was a stranger, a lot of what happened that day was familiar to me.
I expected the usher to hand me a bulletin when I came in. I knew what a prelude was, and I didn't once think about going for popcorn during the "previews". I knew what a call to worship was, and an introit, and a prayer of confession, and a benediction. I knew that the little star next to items in the bulletin meant "stand up".
I knew the Gloria Patri, the doxology, and the Lord's prayer by heart. I could join in without hesitation. In fact, these elements were a comfort to me in their familiarity. I knew how to find hymns in the hymn book, and they were the types of hymns I had sung before in sanctuaries not so different from this one.
I expected that during a Presbyterian worship service, there wouldn't be a lot of visible excitement and no kneeling, but I also knew that didn't mean people weren't paying attention. I expected the service would probably last about an hour, and I was accustomed to sitting in hard wooden pews for that long.
During the scripture readings I knew where to find the passages in the Bible even without using the page numbers. I also knew that it was ok if I wanted to listen to the Word bring read without opening my Bible to read along.
I expected there would be times of prayer, and I was accustomed to listening to other people pray out loud. I was even comfortable with the idea of praying out loud myself.
I knew what all the furniture was for-especially that table in the middle of the sanctuary. I understood that it wasn't just there to hold the candles.
Even though I was a stranger, I already knew a little bit about Calvary, and I had been praying for some time. When I entered this sanctuary on a Sunday morning for worship for the very first time, I was excited to be here and I already had the sense that this was where God was calling me to remain.
Nevertheless, I was a stranger.
Almost every face I saw was unfamiliar to me. Everyone here knew everyone else by name, but I knew almost nobody by name. I wasn't exactly sure where I should sit-over here by the pulpit or back there by the organ.
The order of worship was unfamiliar to me. I had to look at the bulletin again and again to remind myself what came next. The assurance of forgiveness we sing-I had never heard that before. I didn't know how to sing that at all, and when everybody else was singing with their heads up and their bulletins down, I had to keep checking the words.
Because I was familiar with what usually happens in a church service, I was just a little bit uneasy when the offering plates were never passed around. I didn't mind, exactly, it just felt a little funny to me-like something was missing.
Even though I was excited to be here that day, I was also nervous. I was anxious about doing and saying the right things at the right times. I wondered if I would be accepted. I felt like every eye was on me, wondering where I came from, why I was here, and if I would ever come back.
I felt like I was being evaluated. Of course, I was. Thank God, we don't hold a congregational meeting every time a newcomer walks in to decide if we want him or her to come back! On the other hand, the nice thing about it was that by the time I left that day, I had been given a pretty clear assurance that I was indeed welcome, that you wanted me to return, and that there was a place for me in this community.
I share all this with you because I have been wondering lately about newcomers into this sanctuary-folks who enter this sanctuary on a Sunday morning for worship for the first time. I have been wondering what they feel, what they think, what they experience. They enter as strangers, and I wonder if by the time they leave they have received clear assurance that they are welcome, that we want them to return, and that there is a place for them in this community.
I have been reassured as I have thought over how I was welcomed and how others have told me they felt welcomed. This is a welcoming church. Many of you are already intentional about greeting newcomers and seeking to make them feel welcome. Still, I have wondered, what more can we do to welcome strangers in and make a place for them in this community? What more can we do so that for us, like for Abraham, hospitality to strangers is second nature?
Maybe Abraham has something to teach us. (Some of the following ideas were inspired by a sermon by Thomas Black, sermoncentral.com.)
1. Abraham took initiative in welcoming the stranger.
"Abraham looked up and saw three men standing nearby. When he saw them, he hurried from the entrance of his tent to meet them." Abraham didn't wait for the three men to approach him. Abraham went to the men. He greeted them when they were nearby, and he brought them closer.
The first time I worshipped here, I was invited. Even though I knew hardly anyone, I did not feel like an outsider intruding on a family gathering. I felt like a guest. That made a huge difference.
Sometimes others come into this building for the first time because they have been invited, and maybe they even come in the door with the one who invited them.
Often people come for the first time alone, knowing no one. How can we extend an invitation to these people? How can we help them feel more like a guest and less like an outsider intruding on a family gathering?
Perhaps one way is to keep our heads up and our eyes open so that we can notice newcomers when they are nearby. We can approach them-while they are still in the parking lot if at all possible. We can take the initiative to approach them, to greet them, and to invite them in. Notice, Abraham didn't ask any questions, he simply extended an invitation.
Let's say you notice someone new in the parking lot. You go out to meet them. "Good morning!" you say, "Welcome to Calvary." You take a cue from what he says or does next. If he seems to be at all uncomfortable, you give him some space. You go ahead of him to the door, open it for him, and simply nod and smile as he enters. You are confident someone inside will also greet him, so you look up and out at the parking lot again.
You see another newcomer. You go out to meet them. "Good morning!" you say, "Welcome to Calvary." This person smiles immediately, and maybe even extends a hand. You shake the extended hand. You tell him your name. You walk with this person to the building, again taking a cue from what he says and does. If he is open to conversation, you answer his questions or respond to his comments about the weather. Perhaps you ask a few friendly questions of your own, but you don't force anything. You want him to feel like he's being invited in, not like he's being interrogated.
That's just an example. The details depend, of course, on your personality and on the other person. There is no single script. The idea is for us to take the initiative in greeting those who come this way. The idea is to help even the stranger who comes here for the first time without knowing anyone to feel like they have been invited.
Be sensitive to the individual situation of the people you greet. Almost everyone likes to be greeted warmly. Some would prefer not to get too much more attention than that.
Every Sunday morning, we have an assigned greeter whose job is to stand by the door and greet everyone, newcomer and veteran alike, as they enter. What if everyone who worships here regularly began to see themselves as a greeter, even when (especially when) it is not their assigned task? What if there is always more than one person scanning the parking lot, ready to go out to meet a newcomer? What if, once someone has been greeted in the parking lot, he is greeted again inside-not only by the official greeter but also by the very next person he sees, whoever that may be? What if every person he passes on his way to the sanctuary looks up and smiles and extends a greeting and genuinely looks glad to see him and glad that he is here?
I imagine that by the time this newcomer gets to the sanctuary, he will feel more like an invited guest and less like an outsider intruding on a family gathering.
2. When Abraham went to meet the strangers, he bowed low to the ground and he washed their feet.
By bowing low, Abraham sent the message that he considered these strangers important personages. By washing their feet, Abraham indicated that he intended to take the role of servant.
How can we let newcomers know that we consider them important personages? One way is to treat everyone with the same respect and delight (not just respect, but also delight!), no matter how old they are, or what they are wearing, or whether they look like they are comfortable or uncomfortable entering a church. One way is to always keep our heads up and our eyes open, so that we can notice a newcomer and take the initiative to greet them.
How can we let newcomers know that we are here to serve them? One way is to be ready and willing to interrupt a conversation with a friend so that both of you can smile at a newcomer and extend a greeting (and maybe even set the conversation aside for the time being so that one or both of you can enter into conversation with the stranger). That sends the message that whatever it is that you were talking about with the person you know well, it is not more important than extending hospitality to the one you do not know. That's a strong message!
How else can we send the message that newcomers are important personages and we are a servant people?
3. Abraham offered the strangers rest and gave them the best seat under the trees in the shade.
When a person enters this sanctuary for the very first time, we don't know her situation at home or at work or in her spiritual life. We don't know what brought her to this place.
Has she just moved to the area, and is she looking for a new church because she has always gone to church? Is this one step in a long and fruitful walk with Jesus?
Has she been hurt by events at the last church she attended (or a church way back in her childhood)? Are there fresh wounds (or old wounds) that leave her sensitive and more ready to distrust than to trust?
Is this the first time she has gathered the courage to enter a church on Sunday morning? Is she wondering who Jesus really is? Is she wondering what it is that Christians do on Sunday morning anyway?
Is she familiar with liturgy and hymns and standing and sitting and praying out loud?
Do all those things leave her head spinning? Does she wonder what the point is to all the ritual?
Is she touched by the love people show to one another and the willingness that some people have to share openly their grief and their struggles as well as their hope and their joy?
Is she overwhelmed by too much too soon? Is she afraid that we will expect her to wear her heart on her sleeve? Is she anxious that we will betray her trust if she gives it or reject her if she hesitates?
Are the folks at home supportive of her faith or her questions about faith? Or did she sneak out this morning to come here, hoping to be home before anyone else wakes up?
Did she come here because she sensed God leading her here? Or did she come here wondering if God really exists, if God really loves her, if God really leads anybody anywhere?
We don't know. But we can be sensitive to the fact that we don't know. And we can seek to offer some rest in the shade.
4. Abraham prepared a meal for the strangers to refresh them for their journey.
Abraham didn't just offer them a snack. He fed them a feast. And he provided them enough in leftovers to restock their provisions.
Abraham sent instructions to Sarah make three seahs worth of bread. That's over 50 pounds of flour! He had a servant prepare a choice, tender calf from his herd. That's a lot of meat and that's quality meat! He brought curds and milk. Abraham did more than address their immediate hunger, he sent them off with provisions for their journey.
We don't know the circumstances of someone who enters this sanctuary for the very first time. But we can anticipate that they are hungry.
It is my fervent prayer and desire that all are fed here-through the worship and the music and the sermons and the teaching and the fellowship and the prayer, and that they leave here with provisions for the journey.
That they have had a chance to rest in the shade.
That they leave knowing that we consider them important personages.
That they leave feeling like one of the family.
May that be your fervent prayer and desire as well.
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