Several weeks ago, I held a Bible study where the topic of rules became a central talking point. In some sense, with the celebration of June as Pride Month, we were discussing the dichotomy of the LGBTQ+ community with Evangelism. As a strong advocate of the LGBTQ+ community myself, I’m continually dumbfounded by the reality that many of my friends of that community feel entirely unwelcome by the Christian church. And while I struggle to define that element of feeling unwelcome, the reality is that I also feel it. My family church, for better or worse, is composed largely of atomic families resembling children with 1 father and 1 mother. And while I believe our head pastor would welcome anyone from any background into the church, somehow, I feel like the congregation that’s developed around the pastor is simply not as welcoming.
One of my Dad’s favorite sermons touches upon Mark 2, where Jesus purposely communed with those who needed him.
He went out again beside the sea and all the crowd gathered around him and he taught them. And as he passed along, he saw Levi the son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax office, and he said to him, “Follow me.” And he rose and followed him. And as he reclined at table in his house, many tax collectors and sinners were reclining with Jesus and his disciples, for there were many who followed him. And when the scribes of the Pharisees saw that he was eating with tax collectors and sinners, they told his disciples,”He eats with tax collectors and sinners.” And when Jesus heard it, he told them, “Those who are well do not need a physician, rather those who are sick. I did not come to call the righteous, rather I came to call sinners”
Mark.2:13-17
Throughout my life as a Christian, the topic of rules seems to continually surface. Sometimes I see rosters recording church attendance as badges of merit. Or hours of community service. Or amounts of money tithed. There are churches that forbid music because someone thinks that it takes away from the reverence of worship. There are other churches that are formed exclusively around music because it invokes a passionate sense of worship.
As a father, I often joke with my children that “rules are meant to be broken”. and while my wife quickly corrects me with a more reasonable and rational understanding of rules, as a Christian, I am dubious when someone distills salvation down to a set of rules.
One of my favorite versus in the Bible is the greatest commandment, in Mark 12:30, when Jesus says:
30 Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’31 The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’There is no commandment greater than these.”
As a Christian, this is both frustrating and illuminating. Frustrating because I, like everyone else, loves rules because they can be checked off and forgotten about. If salvation could be acquired by following a set of simple rules, I ardently believe that we would follow these rules and do no more. Instead, the mandate of God is to love one another. It is to love yourself. And this might include inviting LGBTQ+ people into your church.
Far too often I see churches reduced to social clubs or charity events (as Dietrich Bonhoeffer mentioned when he visited in America). And in some sense, I understand. I love rummage sales, water days, bingo nights, and silent auctions. But I also realize this is far too comfortable. Sometimes God calls me to be uncomfortable. I think the Christian faith calls us, at times, to be uncomfortable. And sometimes being uncomfortable is about forgetting the rules.
Sometimes I have a dream of standing at a pulpit in front of my church. But as I look out over the pews, I don’t see perfect families. I don’t want to see perfect families.
I see broken families. I see parents who struggled through the treachery of divorce. I see orphans. I see drug abusers. I see poverty. I see the mentally ill. And I certainly see members of the LGBTQ+ community.
I see the rule breakers.
I love the rule breakers.
I love people who are not afraid to be themselves. To love one another. To love themselves. And people who have the courage to take up the cross.
While I’ve probably heard far too many sermons about asking someone to leave your church community, I see far too few sermons about the undeniable, persistently reaching love of God. The danger is that while we build these perfect church communities, we might find Jesus in the wilderness ministering to the sick as any physician would do.