Every time a guest walks through the doors of our church I sort of cringe inside. I know, not the words you want to hear from a pastor. I cringe because I know what a risk they have taken to just show up. In fact, a guest is doing unseen battle in their mind hours before they even drive into a church parking lot—battling fear of anonymity or worse yet, singularity; squelching their own negative encounters with churches, suppressing their own opinions of politics, justice or any other topic that might be fair game by a pastor. It takes immeasurable courage to just show up, sit in a row with strangers, sing songs that are written in old testament prose and then be taken captive for 30-40 minutes by the rants of the likes of me. I get nervous seeing them look back at me. What are they thinking?
Mostly though, I get nervous that they will see the wrong Jesus. My fear is that they will walk away with the idea that Jesus is for winners, straight A students and soccer moms with stick figure families on the back of their mini-van. I am nervous that a guest will see a portrayal of God that is not good—a God that is angry at them.
My fear is healthy…holy, perhaps. Jesus is about his name. He is about us representing well. And yet the greatest way to represent Jesus well is in my weakness and frailty. He name is lifted high, when my name goes low. He comes to the front when I fade to the back.
When guests leave our building I always wonder, “What did they walk away with? Should I be nervous? Did I put my weakness on display well?” Today though, I will walk in weakness demonstrating to every stranger Jesus’ strength.
