Notes from the Wayside: Introspection: A Simple Act of Inclusion

Sunday, October 30, 2016

Introspection: A Simple Act of Inclusion

The following introspection is an excerpt from a sermon delivered at Slater United Methodist Church in Slater-Marietta, South Carolina on October 30, 2016. The entire sermon, titled "The Man in the Tree," will be posted on November 13, 2016.

I share these thoughts hoping they are of help to someone else.

Comments are always welcomed.

If you find these thoughts helpful, please share.

A Simple Act of Inclusion

When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today." So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. All who saw it began to grumble and said, "He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner."

Luke 19:5-7 (NRSV)

You invite us in

Doesn't matter who we've been

Your arms are open wide

Pulling us to Your side

From "You Invite Me In" by Meredith Andrews

Jesus had a way of making the excluded feel included.

In the Gospel of John, we read that one day, while passing through a Samaritan town, Jesus sat down beside a well to rest while the Disciples went to the market to buy food. When a woman came to the well to draw some water, Jesus asked her for a drink. Women normally drew water in the morning, but this woman waited until noon to avoid her peers, for a string of broken marriages in her past had given her a bad reputation. It is remarkable that Jesus, a Jew, would even ask a Samaritan woman for a drink, since Jews and Samaritans generally hated each other, but Jesus was speaking with an outcast among outcasts.¹ Jesus took the opportunity to have a heart-to-heart conversation with her that left her a changed woman. She forgot all about her shame and told everyone in town about the man she had come to believe was their long-awaited messiah.²

Never underestimate the power of a simple act of inclusion. Simply sitting with someone, talking with someone, sharing a meal with someone, asking someone for help and gratefully accepting his or her help, or doing anything that says to someone, "I'm with you, and I'm for you," has the potential to make an impact in a person's life.

During my first two years of college, I was, for the most part, a loner and a hermit, mostly because I was a commuter. Though I occasionally hung out with some of my high school friends who also attended the same university, I typically drove to campus every day, attended my classes, and then went home.

At the beginning of my Junior year, I learned about the Wesley Fellowship, the Untied Methodist group on campus. The young men and women in this group knew how to make a person feel welcomed, included, and loved. During the fall, I joined the group for a retreat at Lake Junaluska, and, during the retreat, we had a healing service. When my turn came to sit in the middle of the circle, everyone placed their hands on me, and I felt the love of everyone in the room.

On one Friday evening, I went to the campus chapel to attend a lecture. I saw some of my friends from the group sitting together on one of the pews, but, because the pew was full, I took a seat on the pew behind them where I would still be able to talk with them. Three of my friends – Kim, Ginger, and John – stood up and moved back to sit with me. I doubt they even remember doing this, but this small act of inclusion meant a lot to me. Another friend turned around and said, "We could have squeezed you in."

Being involved with the Wesley Fellowship changed my life. For years, I had known that I needed to be a Christian, but this group made realize that I actually wanted to be a Christian. I began to see church less as an event I attended every Sunday morning and more as a community built on love. I think that maybe the inclusive nature of the group is what made me want to make sure that the people around me feel included. Is there any wonder why I would remain involved with the group for three years after I graduated?

Notes: