That was me.

I will be writing about authentic welcome in the church for a while. Welcome is a spiritual discipline that asks us to look into new futures, but also to enact some deeply held and deeply respected values. What does it mean to be welcoming? Exactly what is at stake?

There is a thread in Scripture of offering welcome to a stranger, only later to discover that it was an angel or Jesus himself. Abraham ran to meet three strangers in the hottest part of the day. Jesus came to live in a human body and assured His followers that, “[w]henever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:40, The Message). The odd thing is that knowing this, that God may appear or send a messenger at any time with an urgent word doesn’t always keep us from withholding welcome.

Welcome in its simplest sense can be described as the way in which we invite others to share in our experiences and the way we offer empathy for the experiences of others. It’s probably true that we can never know exactly what other people are going through, but attempting to see life from their perspective can create a connection that fosters belonging.

Last Easter, I returned to my home city of Portland, Oregon on the train early in the morning before Sunday services. If I stayed downtown, I could attend a service. I am a person with a disability. I walk with a cane and use a scooter to cover distances. I was coming back from a two-week stay at seminary in Chicago, so I had suitcases and gear. But still, I wanted to try to get to church on a day that would be both a solemn and joyous occasion and would feed my spirit. Sometimes using a scooter means that I struggle to get into churches. Many churches meet in old buildings and have not adapted for people with disabilities for various reasons. Sometimes, however, I get an invitation to participate that completely works.

On this day, as I approached the church, a greeter came out of the doorway and came out to the sidewalk to meet me. It echoed the eager hospitality of Abraham who ran to meet the strangers. The greeter showed me the best way to enter the building and how to get to the elevator to the sanctuary. I want to underscore that information is one of the most important tools communities hold for accessibility. Accessibility is specifically the way in which people are able to be included in meaningful participation. The more people know the more they find ways to include themselves in the life of the church community.

The person who welcomed me didn’t stop there. They showed me where I could store my suitcase during the service. The parallel to draw there is so simple: I have to ask myself, “How do I welcome the weary traveler?” and “What does it mean for me to have space for the baggage of the people with whom I am in Beloved Community and for them to have space for mine?”

The questions matter and it is essential to think about what it means to be an accessible spiritual community because though it is possible for us as individuals to experience the presence of God, the Good News was never meant to be shared selectively or experienced selectively. As communities hold the Good News of God’s love in trust, every way that they keep the Good News from God’s Beloved is a way in which they act against God’s Message and instead of shining the light of God’s love, act in ways that diminish how it can be seen. In other words, all of us need all of us to make it. Extending hospitality, accessibility, and inclusion are ways to do God’s work. In following months, I will revisit these themes with both practical and theological ideas that relate to authentic welcome and sharing the Good News with everyone.

“Stay on good terms with each other, held together by love. Be ready with a meal or a bed when it’s needed. Why, some have extended hospitality to angels without ever knowing it!” (Hebrews 13:1, The Message)