I watched him gracefully slip in and out of church pews from front to back—eyes twinkling, a smile always creasing his face. Church members would lean forward as their pastor approached, eyes fixed on his, eagerly anticipating the benevolence of his greeting.
“So how is the Knott family doing this week?” he would ask as he bent over the pew in front of us, making certain to look directly at my wife and me, and both our teenaged sons. He radiated a warmth we had yet to experience from many others in those first months in a new congregation.
Though he spent at most a minute with each family, there was never a sense of hurry about his greeting. Often the first notes of the organ prelude announcing the coming worship service would find him leaning over one more pew, reluctant to abruptly end the kindness on which so many fed.
And so I entered worship smiling on most Sabbaths—no longer distracted by the unsolved challenges of the last week; content to be among those I was just getting to know; ready to be open-hearted with my God. I sang more fully, prayed more fervently, and listened to the Word more attentively because I had been welcomed by a gracious servant of God.
You already know the homily that usually would follow here—the one about not forgetting to entertain strangers (Heb. 13:2). But months after I was no longer a “stranger” in that congregation—well after I had become a local elder and Sabbath School teacher—it mattered greatly to me week by week that I was blessed and greeted by my pastor, and when he retired, by others who understood and carried forward the gift he had been giving us.
Just now, we yearn to regain what we took for granted just three months ago—the handshake or the arm around the shoulder; the in-person smile that conveys warmth as no virtual expression ever can; the solace of sitting beside—and with—other believers in moments of grief or gladness. More than 80 years ago, Dietrich Bonhoeffer grasped how crucial this experience is to our story of faith: “The physical presence of other Christians is a source of incomparable joy and strength to the believer.”*
When this affliction ultimately ends, we have an unparalleled opportunity to make the places where we learn the Word and worship together sanctuaries of kindness and connection.
The church I want to belong to is . . . welcoming.
* Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together, Hymns Ancient and Modern Ltd. Kindle Edition.