From the Outside Looking In

I grew up in the church; better known as cradle Christian. But my family didn’t always attend church. There was a span of about four years that I cannot remember stepping foot at a place like that. After our first church, and my grandmother’s bout of breast cancer wherein nobody came to my family’s comfort, I remember bouncing around for a while. We went to huge mega churches and small family churches in hopes of finding some place to call home. We didn’t find anything.

My family and I wouldn’t be consistent in a church until I was about nine—and from then on, we continued to attend the same place. My parents are still there ‘till this day.

I’ve had an interesting experience with church. I spent almost 15 years in one, served in over five ministries, helped loads of people, went consistently as much as I could, built relationships with people, brought some people over, and then… I left. I left because I moved cities, but honestly, I wonder at the last few months I spent at my former church.

I wonder at the few months I’ve been at my new church.

Here’s the thing: over the years that I have been a part of the Christian faith and the church, I have consistently heard about the issues with brining people. I’ve heard countless preachings about how best to reach the needy and lead them to a church “family.” I’ve been to countless workshops on evangelism and “outreach.” I use the word family and outreach lightly because it is exactly what I’ve been questioning since leaving my former church.

What are we really doing to reach people, and are we really doing what we intend and what we preach? Are we effectively walking the talk?

Coming from the sincerest part of my heart, the last few months at my former church were brutal. The relationships I thought I had built, quickly came into question; as I became less involved during my move to a new city, the more I began to feel like I was looking outside in. And boy, was that outside cold.

The less I was around, the more difficult it was to have a real conversation with people. Whenever I did show up to a group event, I felt as if I was being overlooked, or at least given only superficial conversation—just enough to keep me there but not enough to make me feel at home or part of a family anymore. The less I was around, the more people started becoming upset at the mistakes, my attempts to continue growing; I quickly learned how quick to judge we can be.

I never said goodbye. To anyone. Not really.

Without going into detail, I felt more and more like an outsider, and began to wonder at how we make others, who may also be on the brink of leaving church or the faith altogether, feel.

Now that I’ve come to reside permanently in a new church family, I’ve got to say, the transition has been just as difficult. Don’t get me wrong, I can see people try, but the thing is, often, just like at my old church, I find that along with a few other outsiders, we are left alone. We sit alone. We are left in the back benches, the corner table, the edge of the stairs.

You know how we make people feel? Alone. We make people feel alone.

Funny thing is, in all the lessons and preachings that I’ve heard in my life, I’ve seen one common characteristic about the God we profess: He pursues us. I mean, God really wants to get to know us. Verse after verse reveals that we believe in a God that knows every detail about who we are, that even when we feel alone, He is there, and that he stands at the edge of our hearts and knocks, relentlessly until we hear Him.

Psalm 139:1-4 O Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me. You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my thoughts even when I’m far away. You see me when I travel and when I rest at home. You know everything I do. You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord.

And aren’t we supposed to be imitators of the Christ we profess? What happened along the way that we have forgotten what kind of love we should give unto others we want to reach out to?

If there is one thing I have learned about my God is that he never gives up on me. He is always there to reach out to me, genuinely and profoundly. My God does not care whether I have served two days or twenty years, he loves me the same in my weaknesses and strengths. My God does not leave me in the emptiness, the quiet, the loneliness; he comes and makes a space right there next to me until my strength and my joy has been renewed.

Going from one church to another has shown me what a serious problem we have on our hands. Until you are an outsider, you cannot truly imagine and understand the reasons why so many people leave dissatisfied from churches that claim to be the most modern, most compassionate, most outreaching, or even most evangelical. We are missing the point. We are missing the pursuit that makes outreach, out reach, and family, family.

We need to reach out, truly, to the people on our peripherals. We need to sit beside the homeless man, the quiet woman, the seemingly angry teenager in the back row of our church. We need to stop ignoring the person standing on the edge of our sanctuary, the person with headphones in, the kids who hide out in the back of classrooms and media rooms. We need to really pursue them. You need to pursue us. Talk to us, really talk to us. Get to know more than our names and what we do during the week. Learn what we love, what we fear, what we hope and desperately pray for outside of those four walls. Stop asking us “how are you,” because you’re always going to get “good,” of “fine,” or “okay.” Because everyone always asks that question. Ask us instead “how is your heart,” and stick around to listen, to ask questions, to dialogue. Just as we cannot escape God no matter where we go (See psalm 139:7-8), let us make it impossible for a person to feel alone at our church.

And when you have really reached out to us, hold on tight and be a real family to us. Mentor us, guide us, explain why things happen the way they do. Don’t get upset and assume things, don’t get upset and disappear, and don’t get upset and give up.  Show us what it means to be a part of Christ family: to build, to work together, to fellowship together, to cry together, to be there together in times of need, to be there in times of joy, to hold on in times of weakness, and to uphold in strength.

I have been within, and without, inside and outside, family and stranger. From an outsider still working my way home, be as relentless as the God we, you, I love.