Yesterday I didn’t even want to go to church.  Last week reminded me of how different I think from almost everyone at my church.  And it’s not even that they have a different opinion than me.  It’s that they aren’t open to trying to understand a different view. They aren’t willing to put themselves in someone else’s shoes.

That was frustrating, and it feels overwhelming sometimes.  Why should I bother even opening my mouth when I know what they’re going to say?

But we have to keep on, right?  Keep on with dialogue, with asking questions, with standing with the oppressed.  Even if people dismiss us or don’t feel we’re important enough to understand.

We keep on trying to live like Jesus did.

So, I didn’t really have a choice yesterday.  I had to go to church because I had to clean up the coffee and doughnuts.  And from the first song, I was glad I went.

You are light, you are light
When the darkness closes in

Oh, I’m running to your arms
I’m running to your arms
The riches of your love
Will always be enough
Nothing compares to your embrace
Light of the world forever reign

You are more, you are more
Than my words will ever say
You are God, you are God
Of all else I’m letting go

So much healing truth in that song.

I don’t speak up to make friends or lose them.  I do it because people are worth it.  Because that’s what Jesus did.  And even in the middle of the storm, He is there.  We can find comfort in running to Him.  He is more than all of this arguing, divisiveness and oppression.  He is more.

If that wasn’t enough, there was the sermon.  We’ve been working our way through the book of James for a few weeks, and so the verses for yesterday were 2:1-13.

Favoritism.  Judging.  Discrimination.  Mercy.

Coincidence?  I don’t know.

I don’t know if the sermon was in response to last week.  I don’t know if our pastor would have said all of this anyway.  I do know that he is working towards being a more progressive type of Christian, and that he has a huge heart for the outcast.

Either way, in light of last week, the sermon was incredible, and I was trying not to bawl the whole way through.  Thankfully I was in the balcony so no one could hear my loud sniffling.

“Many small cuts equal one big wound.”

“I can’t control the world and it’s favoritism and discrimination.  But at the doors of this church it stops.”

“Favoritism is the outworking of judgment.  If you see favoritism, there is judgment.”

“Act like it’s your job to show people what Jesus is like, because it is!”

“I love Jesus, I’m just different.”

Those were the notes I took.  And my husband worked in the tech booth, hence the balcony, and I took home the copy of sermon notes he had.  A few more statements:

• There is a sin that happens in a lot of churches, that is ugly, damaging, and causes the church to miss it’s mission – the sin of favoritism.

• People run away from judgment but they run to mercy.

• We have forgotten that the most broken people, the poor, the outsider, the sinner – those are the ones that made up the most of Jesus’ ministry.

• The church has gained a reputation for being a place of judgment.  We need to be a place of favoritism and mercy for all.

A while back Rachel Held Evans asked why people who struggle stay in church.  This is why I stay. 

I stay because the vision behind it is one of love, grace, and welcoming for all.  I stay because with this pastor, there is no division of sin, no one is treated better or worse.

I stay because there are a couple people who are as affirming as he is, and that helps me feel not completely isolated.  I stay because the women I feel so hurt by are wonderful and I love them – which is why it hurts, right?

I stay because I want to be a voice of change.  Because I know there are other hurting people who might be afraid to speak up because they don’t want to be dismissed.  I stay because every time I think about leaving, God does something like this, reaffirming that this is where I’m supposed to be.

I stay because I believe one day we will be a church who says ‘I can’t control the favoritism and discrimination out in the world, but in my life, it stops here.’