004. down with comfort

A little over a month ago, I came to a harsh realization:

I do not know what it is like to suffer.

Now, there are many ways in which we could define “suffer,” including but not limited to experiencing the death of a close friend or family member, financial distress, emotional distress, crises of faith, etc. But when I speak of suffering here, I am referring to physical suffering, the likes of which millions of people around the world experience daily.

My epiphany occurred when Chris and I were at a local coffeeshop one night before classes began. We were on the newly-added back porch, enjoying the breeze and some smalltalk when we were joined by Sid.

If you’ve spent any time at all in Midnight Oil within the last five years, you’ll at least know of Sid. He’s not quite homeless; he owns a trailer on a small patch of land about 20 miles outside of Searcy. His living conditions, however, are far from equal with those known to most of us. Midnight Oil is his usual haunt, and he’s made friends with numerous students over the year – namely our dear friend Chris, who performed our wedding ceremony. I met Sid through him about 4 years ago, and have had many small and insignificant (to me) conversations with him since then.

But this night was different. I mostly listened as he shared his local church experiences with me. Let me say this: I attend what I considered to be the “best” church in town. I say this because they are the most community-focused group I’ve interacted with; the building is used every day of the week, and more often than not it’s for Tae Kwon Do classes, babysitting for single mothers, Celebrate Recovery, and other local meetings. The ministers (and a lot of the members) are constantly meeting with people from the community; I see them having conversations around town weekly. I admire how outwardly-focused my now-home church is. But I am an insider; an “official” member; a former summer intern. I am in the know, in relationships with others there. I blend in quite nicely on any given Sunday.

But Sid shared another perspective entirely. His experiences have been less-than-outstanding, to say the least. I’m sure there are many issues involved in shaping his side of the story, but at the same time… he was failed. The church – the body of Christ as he knows it – let him down. And that experience is one that has and will shape(d) his image of Christ for the rest of his life.

As I listened to him talk, I found myself hoping that he would continue to do all the talking – because I had no idea how to respond. What was I to say? What excuses could I, should I give for the ways he was treated and, in some cases, neglected and ignored? Are there even any excuses?

Something I’ve noticed in the Gospels is that Jesus was a man who met peoples’ needs – their most basic, human, material needs. When people were hungry, He fed them. When people were sick, He healed them. Would they perhaps turn away from His message upon hearing it? Yes. Did that stop Him from helping them? Never.

In churches today, there is an unspoken but very prominent ulterior motive – numbers. Be it higher membership or more baptisms, churches are all about numbers. If we even suspect that someone is “using” us for the free food, the assistance in paying a bill, we shut them off. Now, I’m not saying that we should allow people to bleed us dry of our resources; after all, there are legitimate needs that we can meet with what we have. But why are we so quick to turn people away, to pressure them into a religion without giving them the chance to develop a basic relationship with God?

How dare we give anything to people with ulterior motives. How dare we only reach out to people to get them in our building, into our baptistries. How dare we treat them worse than Christ Himself would have.

To Sid, and to countless others who have been burned and turned away – I am so, so sorry. I promise you that the Christ we claim to follow is nothing like us. If He were here, you would be fed, clothed, and loved, regardless of your religious standing. And that is something in which you can freely put your faith.

When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his throne in heavenly glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.

Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’

They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

He will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’

Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.