I've Been Thinking About This…

I’m not a big people-person. I’m an introvert.

The people I like, I like. But there are people I find it hard to like. The EGRs. The rough. The cynics. The cruel. The selfish. The bitter. The whiners. The broken.

People who are broken are sharp and prickly. They’re difficult. They interrupt conversations, or are opinionated or worse – they disagree with me.

The thing is, though: People who are broken were broken by others who were broken. Broken people break people.

So if broken people break people, who heals people? Healed people do, of course. You didn’t see Jesus going around breaking people – He went in the other direction and healed them (if they’d let Him).

I spoke about this last week in church (shameless self-promotional plug! – To Speak of Grace) as part of our stewardship series, and used a hospital analogy: If I break my arm, I don’t go to the bowling alley, I go where I know I can get help to get better – to a hospital. I don’t go to a philosopher or a witch-doctor, because they can’t help in this situation. Healing comes from a doctor. Similarly, when I need spiritual healing, I go to a spiritual hospital – which the Church is designed to be. The problem is, we’re sick of churches. We keep hearing about how they’re run by people who have not acted in a Godly manner – pastors or priests who have been abusive, or adulterous, or greedy. It’s hard to separate the institution from those who make themselves its figureheads.

But the Church has always been God’s sole design for the spiritual hospital, and it always will be. Pursuing this analogy further, the medical staff is headed up by Jesus, and – for those who can only say, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” – there are ambulances. We are the ambulance. When someone is so lost and broken that they can’t (or won’t or even daren’t) get to church, we are sent out into the world to rescue those broken souls.

Which brings me back to the broken and to my comfort zone.

There are certain people that fit very readily into my comfort zone. Nice people. It’s true for each of us – you too! We’re very good at inviting the people we like to church; in fact, we quite comfortably invite friends who are already going to other churches to come to ours instead, because ours is ‘more alive’, or ‘has better worship music’, or ‘great preaching’. We’re actively pushing them to join us.

If you’re wealthy, or good-looking, or charismatic, or popular then – just like high school – you make the in-crowd. We want you. If you’re not one of those, but you’re useful, or hard-working, or clever then well, OK, we’ll tolerate you.

But if you’re noisy, or over-emotional, or have bad breath, or wear the same clothes all the time, or exhibit some other social lack; if you’re homeless, or an addict, or abusive, or a hooker then would you please stay away? You’ll mess it up for the rest of us. You don’t fit in our comfort zone.

I might expand my comfort zone for old people, or – up to a point – even for noisy tots, but not for you. You’re broken.

The problem is: The ones I don’t want in my comfort zone … are the very people Jesus does want.

The people I think will totally mess up my church … are the ones Jesus says it’s there for.

He hung out with the homeless, the beggars, the prostitutes, the adulterers, the maimed, the forgotten, the side-lined.

The keys to His church were carried by smelly wet lower-class fishermen and by reformed Quisling-style tax-collectors. He accepted water from an adulterous woman and foot washing from a prostitute. He healed lepers and sent them to the temple. He healed blind people, lame people, crippled people, unclean people, demon-possessed people. His admiration was spent on the sacrifice of a widow who gave her last farthing to the temple; on the faith of a soldier of the occupation forces, and on the importunity of a gentile Syro-Phoenician mother.

These aren’t the people who should be getting into the church, right?

Wrong.

They need hospital. They’re broken. And when we deny them access – either actively by saying, “You’re not invited” when they show up at the hospital, or passively by failing to send the ambulance out to invite them – we’re not healing them. And if we’re not healing, we’re allowing the breaking to continue. And if we allow it to continue, we’re one of the breakers. And if we’re one of the breakers, we must still be broken ourselves.

What if we went out to the broken people and urged them to come to church with us – to sit beside us in church – with the same enthusiasm with which we urge our friends to come?

   Send article as PDF