Then, out of the blue, another kid comes up to him. No hesitation, just walks right over with a smile and strikes up a chat. Just like that, the nervous kid’s face lit up, and they’re off—chatting like old pals as they began to toss a ball to each other. Talk about a sacred and holy Anamesa moment. Leaning into that space between the unknown with open arms and an open heart. As I walked away I began to think about that famous passage in Hebrews that reminds us why welcoming others is so important. It says, “Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it!” (Hebrews 13:2). Joy always starts with a welcome invitation. Recently, a man I met in the same park, accepted my invite and join us for church service in my backyard. Michael, as I would learn, is a "walker." Or what some would call a "vagrant" or the latest coloquial version, "unhoused." He and I had spent a bit of time getting to know one another after my dog began sniffing him while he was sitting and praying.
Michael has come a few more times. And every morning he and I (and my dog) meet in the park to chat about life, discuss scripture, teach one another, and as he likes to call it, "just gaze in the same direction." Welcoming and entertaining angels. A holy and sacred moment in the space between.
Mother Teresa once said, "If you want to see the face of God, look no further than the person next to you." Welcome is vital power we all possess. It has the ability to unlock doors, flip on light switches, make friends, build communities, create peace, end wars, and so on. Whenever we show it, or step into it, the presence of God comes into focus. No longer are their Jews and Greeks, men and women, slave and free, rich and poor. Just one body, Christ's body, revealing God's glory in the flesh. Because my dog fearlessly walked up to a stranger and showed him love, I met a friend. Because I took the time to sit with him, others in the park began to take notice. They too began to get to know Michael. And more began to notice. Soon, someone began bringing him breakfast in the morning. Others, a cold beer in the afternoon. Many more, offering a smile wave, a quick hello, and even an invitation to join church. Because we welcomed him, Michael is telling everyone at the park about his experience at Anamesa. He doesn't like the term "evangelical" but he does giggle when I call him my own "John the Baptist." And that makes sense. They both live in the wilderness, on the fringes of life, relying on the providence of God, who shows up for him in the face of so many. Just like God shows up for me in him. Like his archangel namesake, Michael truly is a blessed child of God. I have no idea how well that T-Ball team did, but I suspect that new friendship has continued. I would confidently bet those two boys are still talking, still tossing the ball, and still welcoming new friends onto their team. That's how it works in the space between. Every handshake, every smile, every “good morning” become the very building blocks of fellowship and love - the very community we are seeking to build. But more importantly, when strangers become friends, the gospel is lived out. It's in these sacred moments between the seconds of our life, the heart of Christ beats. And the life of his Body comes alive. It begins with welcome. It begins with us. When our willing heart takes the first step to make someone feel welcomed to experience God’s endearing love in the flesh. Whether it’s an angel or a beloved child of God, by breaking through that space between nervous uncertainty and welcome, hearts grow. And so does Anamesa.
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Ian MacdonaldAn ex-copywriter turned punk rock pastor and peacemaker who dedicates his life to making the world a better place for all humanity. "that they all might be one" ~John 17:21“Prius vita quam doctrina.”
~ St. Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) * “Life is more important than doctrine.”
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