All In!

Romans 10:13

All of us, I fear, have had the experience of being left out—our jump shot wasn’t quite good enough to catch the captain’s eye, so we watched; everyone got asked to dance but one; there was no room at the lunch table; we really wanted the job, but someone else got it—the disappointment of being left out hurts. We take it to mean that we aren’t good enough; we aren’t beautiful enough; we aren’t qualified; or worse—we are the victim of prejudice, snobbery, or base exclusiveness. Whatever the reason, we were left out. Standing alone never felt so lonely.

Take heart.

Scripture does nothing else if it does not preach welcome—an absolute welcome of any and all. 

God always seems to find the one alone. There was Abraham wandering in the desert. There was Moses wandering alone behind Jethro’s sheep. There was Jacob wrestling his own guilt with a rock for a pillow. There was David left out in the field because he was too young. There was all of Israel wasting in exile. 

God seeks the one left out because the one left out needs to know how they stand in the eyes of God—a beloved child, a treasured lamb. 

As we come to understand this truth, we begin to get a deeper appreciation for Christ and his ministry. As Jesus wandered the Judean countryside and towns, he had an eye for the one alone. Within the Twelve, look at Matthew, a tax collector, who existed in isolation despised by his neighbors; look at Simon the Zealot, a man set apart by his intense hatred of the elite; and look at Judas, a man lost in his own vision of the world. Jesus called each of them to himself. Look at who Jesus stops his wandering to talk with—a woman at the well, Zacchaeus in a tree, a blind man begging beside the road, a man lost in his demons—all alone, isolated, and alienated. Jesus calls them, speaks with them, touches them, and welcomes them. 

As we take of this witness as one, we see a wonderful pattern. No one is left out. No one is left standing on the sidelines looking in. No wonders what it will take to get Jesus’ eye. They are seen. They are known.

Being welcomed helps so much with so much.

We know what it feels like to get an invitation. We belong. We fit. We are worthy. We are all right when all is said and done.

That understanding does so much to help ease the road before us. It gives us the confidence to try new things. It gives us the courage to be what we dream of being. It gives a sense of proper pride—not the self-inflating, egotistical arrogance that drives others away (really a product of feeling left out)—but the proper sense of being a child of God, loved and kept. 

That gives us hope to face the world. We are not alone. We are part of something bigger than we are. There are friends, companions, and helpers there. If that is so, then even if the road takes a plunge into one of those lonesome valleys, we know we do not have to face such a trial on our own, relying only on ourselves to get through it. That is the strength and power of community, and that explains why young parents will often return to church—they need help being parents, they need the wisdom of the elders, and they need the comfort of knowing someone else who knows what they face each day. All of that is testament to the work and presence of Christ in the world.

Which then begs the question—why do some feel a need to set up fences around the church? Why do some feel a need to exclude others? Why do some make the church a fortress for a mythical moral or spiritual elite?

That is not Christ.

That is Paul’s point.

With Christ, it is “all in.” To truly be the communion of Christ, then we need to hear his call to welcome as we have been welcomed. 

Now, here in this sanctuary, that may well feel like “preaching to the choir”—I have had some wonderful conversations with recent visitors to our Sunday mornings, and the reports are good—everyone was welcomed fully and completely. No one was left to one side, ignored, or asked why they were there. 

Good.

Take that with you into the week. No, you may not have the strength in numbers we have on Sunday morning—not in a literal sense—but we are all with each other, regardless. That is the miracle of communion—it never ceases to be. As we enter the work week, all of us are with all of us. We carry one another in our hearts. We carry the assurance of conversation today. There is a community behind us. To use the vernacular, we got our backs!

So, we can welcome those we meet. We can face the strangers in our midst. We can go new places. We can try new things. We are not alone—we are “all in!” Keep your eyes open. The lonely alone are everywhere. Someone needs a friend. Meet them in Christ.