We weren’t sure if our neighbors would show up for our neighborhood open house last night or not because the weather has been icy and cold. But they did come! Our first guest was the attorney who closed on our house for us. He and his wife live two doors down from us and it was great to see them again. They came to the door and as soon as they walked in another lady showed up at the front door. She wasn’t as dressed up as everyone else but that didn’t matter. And neither did the cigarette in her hand really. So I opened the door and invited her in. She quickly threw out the lit cigarette behind her and I was hoping like crazy it wasn’t going to catch the new porch furniture on fire. I tried real hard not to follow the flying cigarette with my overly concerned eyes. I opened the door for her to come in and introduced myself to her.
I knew something wasn’t right when she couldn’t remember her last name. All she kept saying was, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her speech was slurred, she smelled of alcohol and the more we talked in the foyer the less confused I became. This woman was clearly drunk and she had just crashed our party.
Randy was in the other part of the house showing our other neighbors around the house. The kids are running around somewhere and I’m left with this very apologetic drunk woman and I had no clue what to do. I said to the woman, “Umm, are you my neighbor?” She started telling me about her sister and what she did for a living. I awkwardly said, “Weeell…..uhm, you see, we’re kind of having an open house for our neighbors tonight so I was just sort of wondering if you got one of those little invitation thingies?” (We had dropped off invitations to everyone on our street but didn’t know who many of the people were) She said, “Naw, didn’t get one. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Still trying to assess the situation I said, “Let me get you some…… some…. I couldn’t remember what was supposed to help with the little issue we had going on….warm milk? water? a grape juice capri sun? I was desperately trying to pull it up. I knew there was something that was supposed to help but for the life of me I couldn’t recall what it was. This is all happening in the foyer while everyone else totally deserted me. She leans into me and whispers in my ear, “Well, I really wanted some alcohol.”
I said, “Well, I think you’ve already had a little bit tonight haven’t you?” She whole heartedly agreed and then I informed her we had no alcohol in the house. But we did have cider and coffee. “Would you like some?” I asked. I felt like I did when our kids reach for a handful of m&m’s and I say, “Nope, but you can have some healthy broccoli spears, would you like that?”
As soon as I offered the cider she made a 180 turn and about walked through the front glass door she so mysteriously appeared at.
About that time some more neighbors walked in and I welcomed them in while our other friend walked out. As she walked out she stumbled onto the sidewalk and ended up sitting down on the ground in a drunken heap. I went back out to talk to her because I was feeling partially guilty for not wanting her to come inside and join the rest of us… but I did offer her something to drink and she didn’t like what I had to offer so I was thinking I had done my part.
At one point I had asked her if she was okay and she started to cry and told me about a problem with a family member. As I hugged her I asked her if she knew the only One person who can help her through all this. She said, “God?” I said, “Yes. You can’t even help yourself but God can help you and he loves you right where you are.”
But was I loving her right where she was to the fullest?
I knew she wouldn’t remember any of this the next day or possibly even the next hour but I desperately was trying to know how to respond to this woman. I kept wondering in my head, “How would Jesus respond to this woman if it was his open house? Would he usher her out quickly sending her the unspoken message she didn’t belong? Would he invite her in but run to go hide the frankincense, gold and myrrh?” I don’t know, but a few things do come to mind when I consider how Jesus might have responded to this woman.
Matthew 9:10-13
10 While Jesus was having dinner at Matthew’s house, many tax collectors and “sinners” came and ate with him and his disciples. 11 When the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and ‘sinners’?”
12 On hearing this, Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. 13 But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”
Was I extending the mercy to the extent Jesus desires? I’m still wondering about that.
And then there’s that time when Jesus invited himself over to Zacchaeus’ house. He had been drawn to the desperate and somewhat childish behavior Zacchaeus exhibited when he scaled a tree so he could see Jesus.
Luke 19:1-10
19 Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. 2 A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. 3 He wanted to see who Jesus was, but being a short man he could not, because of the crowd. 4 So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way.
5 When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” 6 So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly.
7 All the people saw this and began to mutter, “He has gone to be the guest of a ‘sinner.'”
8 But Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”
9 Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. 10 For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost.”
I have a few thoughts rumbling around in my heart in regards to these verses (and others) and in relation to this party crasher woman. My first inclination is to say that “party crasher girl” wasn’t exactly seeking Jesus like Matthew and Zacchaeus was and so that allows a way out at feeling compelled to making this seemingly misfit guest a part of the celebration. Whew! I’m covered and totally justified in sending this woman back to her home….and quickly I might add. However, my thought breaks down when I look at the fact that Jesus is the one who approached Matthew, in the midst of his tax collecting-ness.
Jesus went after Matthew, the sinner. Jesus went after the tax collector while he (Jesus) was surrounded by religious dignitaries….religious people who knew better than to invite the alcoholic in their home for the sake of what others might think and for the sake of how it might alter the perfectly planned social gathering. This is also where I love to say “But I’m NOT Jesus and I don’t have the same effect on people as Jesus because he was and is God. I can’t do the things Jesus did.” But yet he tells me to be the aroma of Christ…..to have the smell of Jesus on me. And so I am to strive to treat others in a way that Jesus, who came after Melody, the sinner, would treat others. I just don’t always know what that looks like. There are obvious lines one must draw. I feel like many times my lines are drawn much much quicker than they should be at times.
It’s interesting that just this week I shared an email with Dacia Bray, coordinator for Safehouse in Atlanta, GA. We’ve had a few conversations through email the last few months and as I went back and re-read my email to her I am humbled, embarrassed and disgusted at my arrogance at the thought that I’ve figured out how to relate to the marginalized. This is what I said to her three days ago: (when I refer to the church I am referring to the universal church as a whole…not just our church)
“…..My desire is to see the church group mix with the marginalized. I would love to talk to you about this another day…..because honestly both parties seem to be equally uncomfortable with each other….homeless, low income mixed with middle to upper class men and women who genuinely love God but feel awkward around a different socioeconomical class…..this was so foreign to the heart of Christ. How do we bridge that gap? How do we make a person coming off the streets in tattered and dirty clothes feel comfortable coming into our home, our church, etc. I’m speaking from the perspective of a church. Me and my family totally are comfortable around our friends who are less fortunate……”
I know God is speaking to me about these things. I regret feeling like I know how to “handle” certain types of people. I’ve missed it completely when I am at that stage of thinking. I just want to love the way Jesus loved and I’m realizing it will not always look neat, tidy and socially appropriate.
So yeah, I’m still processing all these things. And while we had an absolutely fabulous time with our neighbors last night, I can’t get my uninvited neighbor out of my head. We got her a safe ride home so I don’t worry in that sense but I want to keep pondering these things and have a feeling I will for quite some time.
Lord, keep it coming. Keep drawing my heart closer to the heart of you, so much so that I will not wrestle so hard with how far to love. That it will just flow out of me in a way that smells like you. In a way that is not concerned with what other people think or with how it effects me and my plans. Let it be so, Lord.
Leave a Reply