Hospitality: The Good Bad and Ugly

Walking into our church's Wednesday night dinner, I was immediately pulled aside by our church's much-beloved retired minister.

"See that couple over there?" he said. "You should probably go and say hello to them because they were really upset when you asked them to move seats last week. They left the church once when someone told them they couldn't sit in their pew--but they're back now, so you should be very nice to them. [And please don't say anything to them about moving.]"

In other words, if these people are not happy, they will leave the church.
And when I asked them to share their table with others, I upset them.
So I should go out of my way to apologize. Because the purpose of church is to keep people happy.

Seriously?

I kind of felt like this on the inside:

First of all, I did NOT ask them to move last Wednesday. We had a family of five who were brand new to the church; here for their very first church dinner and none of the tables had five empty spaces...except one. One table had two people at it (our tables seat eight) and as I walked over to speak with them, they were getting up to put their plates away.

My memory might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure I said, "Oh? Are you guys leaving? Because we have a brand new family who needs five spaces to sit..."

And then when the family started sitting down, (and I KNOW I'm remembering this part right) the young mom looked at the elderly lady and said "please don't leave--we'd love to talk with you."
...but the elderly lady said "No, it's fine. We were leaving anyways."
NO ONE ASKED THEM TO MOVE!!!!!

More importantly. who cares if we did?? If you're a member of this church, I expect you to be friendly enough and Christ-like enough to give your seat to someone else who needs it more--especially if they are new and there is no where else for them to go. We have an open communion table for a reason. Share your space. 

I wanted to march over and chew them out. make it a teaching lesson.

Instead, I went with grace (see Proverbs 25:21-22) and walked to their table with a warm smile--at least on the outside. I was still inwardly seething. They answered with biting words and angry glares, but I was proud of myself for being a better person than them.

...until I remembered that my lunch conversation was about Jesus' words from the cross: "Father, forgive them. They know not what they do."
I realized later that they probably DON'T know how much hurt they're causing. Their sin--their blind selfishness--wasn't allowing them to see others. ...and I realitzed that an existence like that must be lonely.
So I DID pray for them--and this time I really meant it.
And I repented of my own Pharisaical prayer (c.f Luke 18:11)

On a positive note, we also had a little girl who came to the children's ministry for the first time. Our kids gather in the dining space and then migrate (duck-like) to the children's area, so as we started to make our way over, I introduced her to a few of the kids. Most of them said 'hello' and smiled, but ONE little girl in particular--a beautiful and occasionally awkward little girl who doesn't always know how she, herself, fits in-- she took the time to murmur a delighted "oh! you're new! Would you like me to show you the way?" ...and they walked away hand-in-hand.

I melted.
MELTED.

Almost burst into tears on the spot.

THAT, my friends, is the kingdom of God.
Aand why children will always ALWAYS be welcome there.

(and why we should welcome others)