Risk Welcome When It's Least Convenient

by Rob Heppenstall

Reading the stories shared by my fellow Pilgrims over the past few weeks, I am struck by a common theme linking the stories together -- a theme even more specific than the prescribed topic of "risking a deeper welcome." In our reflections on what it means to be welcomed, we have nearly always described circumstances when the welcome was unexpected or took us by surprise because we were foreigners, strangers, or intruders. We've gone from Japanese bathwater to Missionary Baptist worship services, beginning each story uncomfortably as outsiders, yet leaving humbled by unexpected, welcoming embraces. My own story will not stray from this path, I think for good reason. The challenge, though, is to see what sort of risks this welcome encourages me to take:

I was sitting on the bottom bunk, overwhelmed by the emotional cries slowly building outside the bedroom. I did not even know him, but it was quickly evident to me that the man who had just died was immensely important to the community of Bayonnais, Haiti. As someone who was only visiting for a few weeks, it was awkward to be present in such an intimate time of mourning. I was an outsider sitting on the inside of an event that I couldn't possibly fully understand.

When I was invited to attend the funeral, I was surprised. I had only been to two funerals in my lifetime and yet was being asked to attend my third with a community that I had only recently come to know. The funeral itself, however, was not what brought this story to mind. It was rather the event that took place afterwards. Simon, the son of the man who had died unexpectedly, was only a couple of years older than me. He had come home for the funeral and would be around for just a few days until he would leave to finish exams. A few hours after the funeral, Simon and I had been talking (politics and .mp4 players to lighten the mood...) when he invited me to visit his home that evening. I just met this guy, he is grieving the death of his father, and he invites me, a stranger, into his home! I accepted the invitation, but was worried that the rest of the family may find my presence intrusive. Instead, I was warmly welcomed and tutored by Simon and a few other men in the art of dominoes. We played for a few hours, enjoying the light-hearted camaraderie in such a difficult time. In this family's time of great sadness, they were willing to warmly welcome me into their midst. I'm still not quite sure how they did it.

Simon's willingness to welcome me in a time of great inconvenience as well as my own foreignness to the situation brought to mind what some of the circumstances might have been like for some of Christ's early followers. When Jesus sent "the seventy" to prepare the way in the towns to which he'd later travel, Jesus sent them "as lambs in the midst of wolves" (Luke 10). The lambs go out, expecting to be met by ravenous enemies eager to devour them. Although they will undoubtedly meet many "wolves," they will also find those who give them food and shelter. What risks can I take to a better giver of that deep welcome? In what ways and to whom am I a "wolf?" How can I better be the unexpected host to a stranger in my midst? I certainly don't know the complete answers, but for me it will need to start with realizing that welcomes are needed much more often than when it's a convenient time to play host.

Risk welcome when it's least convenient