Sensitive Ministry
While putting together some thoughts for my “book”, I had a college-era memory surface.
Early on in my freshman year, I had a desire to connect with God. One Saturday, I ran into an old friend from a non-denominational youth organization we had both been involved with during high school. The friend asked if I was going to church anywhere and proceeded to invite me to a “church” meeting on campus. It was all college students, aimed at college students. Having experienced a bit of disconnect from the church (feeling like it had nothing to offer me…everything was either for young kids or older adults), something that was targeted towards “me” sounded like a great idea.
I kicked around the idea the rest of the day and decided to check it out. So, I woke up early on a Sunday morning and made my way to Pruis Hall, where this “church” was meeting.
Now, remember, I was hoping to connect with God. I was in search of peace, hope, grace, mercy, love, and joy. The church seemed like a good place to find such things.
Upon entering, I was greeted by people who seemed a little too friendly. But, at the same time, I felt totally welcomed. I made my way into the auditorium and spotted my friend who immediately said, “Hey man, I saved a seat just in case you showed up.” Now, let me just note that there was no need to save a seat because Pruis was less-than-full. But, there were a great number of students in attendance that morning.
The band kicked things off and I thought, “Hey, this is pretty good for a church.” I knew a couple of guys in the band. I knew some people in the congregation from the dorms and the same non-denominational youth organization as the friend who had invited me. So, I felt pretty comfortable.
The pastor got up and made some announcements, inviting everyone to get in a Bible study and evangelism training courses. He seemed like a pretty cool guy and I eagerly anticipated the message.
Then came time for the message. And, within three minutes, I knew I was in the wrong place and started plotting the easiest route to the exit. I’d use the whole, “Oh man, I really need to use the bathroom” excuse and simply not return. Yes, I wanted to hit the door within three minutes.
The message started with a statement that went something along the lines of, “aren’t you thankful that there are people like you on campus? Aren’t you glad that not everyone here is a heathen? Aren’t you glad that there are others seeking Jesus on this sinful campus?” It gave the impression that the people sitting in Pruis Hall that morning had it all together…they had it all figured out. Then the tone changed a bit. The pastors face got red as he began to talk about “those sinful people nursing hangovers in their dorm rooms” and he listed a bunch of other sinful things people were probably doing instead of being in church. Within three minutes, I wished I’d been nursing a hangover instead of sitting in church.
The message continued on in the “we are righteous and everyone else sucks” tone. Within five minutes, I had totally zoned out. I was so outraged by this guy and his claims that the majority of the campus was damned to hell. He was talking about me, my friends, and so many others that didn’t necessarily share his same fundamental attitudes.
The morning was filled with arrogant, prideful judgment. There was no offer of hope for anyone outside the church. There was no offer of grace to those who might have stumbled. There was no sense of peace if you weren’t perfect. There was no sense of love for those outside the walls of that auditorium. And, the joy I had started to anticipate 25 minutes earlier had deflated.
The pastor didn’t even consider that maybe someone was there that didn’t have it all together…that was simply looking for an opportunity to hear about the loving, saving grace of Jesus Christ.
I left disgusted. I left feeling sorry for the people that had fallen into the legalistic trap of that church. I remember thinking, “If this is what the church is really all about, I don’t want any thing to do with it.” I never returned to that church.
Later, in my college career, I would have debates with leaders of that campus ministry. They often sponsored street preachers that would say hateful things about homosexuals, drunks, those being promiscuous, and so on. I would ask them, “How can God hate homosexuals if He loves everyone? Because, you’re message that God is love and He loves all people, even sinners, sort of conflicts with your message that God hates homosexuals, drunks, and people who are sleeping around.” Sometimes I agreed with the foundation of the messages they would send, but I totally disagreed with the way they communicated the message. It was always about hateful judgment. The whole “turn or burn” thing just wasn’t working for me.
All of this is simply to say that the whole experience has made me sensitive to issues like this in my own ministry. I never want someone to come to church looking for hope and leave empty handed. I want people to connect with God and not leave feeling guilty or inadequate. I want to offer love, peace, grace, mercy, and joy to all looking for God. I probably miss the boat sometimes. But, remembering this whole experience has once again raised my level of sensitivity. I never want to be one of those pious, holier-than-thou kinds of pastors.
I’m just glad I met some Christians who were simply real and didn’t put on a show of righteousness. They were simply themselves and simply spoke of being in love with Jesus and how He’s in love with everyone. I want to be that kind of person.