Open Doors and Load-Bearing Walls

Across America—and perhaps the globe, for all I know—one can be driving along, minding one’s own business, when all of a sudden, one passes a church marquee. They’ll often have a pun like:

· “Honk if you love Jesus. Text while driving if you want to meet Him.”

· “CH__CH. What’s missing? (U R.)”

· “God answers knee-mail.”

· “No Jesus, No Peace. Know Jesus, Know Peace.”

· “Don’t let worries kill you—let the Church help.”

But occasionally, there are two words that aren’t trying to be clever. No pun. No flowery prose. No abbreviated scripture reference you can’t possibly remember when you get home.

“EVERYONE WELCOME”

It’s intended to help the suspicious and skeptical lower their guard. To the uninitiated, it helps manage expectations of rejection and condemnation. To the converted seeking a fresh start, it offers a clear runway

I’ll bet my next paycheck that not once, ever, has that sign been posted as a trap; a trick to lure “the lost” into “finding” the prosecution for their sins that they know—down deep—they need, though they were unsure they’d ever find it.

Even when the sign is posted in a storefront window, a classroom hallway, or peppered throughout a community festival, its meaning is intended to signal inclusivity, diversity, or safety.

So please don’t think me cold and callous when I say that the sign bothers me. Not the kind of bother that keeps me up at night, mind you. But the kind that gnaws at me for a while after I spot one, especially on a church marquee. Specifically, I have two problems with the message:

1. EVERYONE
2. WELCOME

Let’s take the second one first.

My concern is our tendency to use the words “friendly” and “welcoming” interchangeably. Many churches invest heavily in being intentionally friendly and can rightfully claim they are. They have teams executing coordinated strategies to make sure visitors can safely get from the parking lot to their destination with as little friction as possible. Some offer shuttles that drop them off at the entrance. Some offer donuts and coffee; one less obstacle to overcome on a sloggy Sunday morning. Others offer gift bags filled with vital info, toys for children, and logoed SWAG to help propagate the message.

If you didn’t know any better, you might think you’d wandered into an Apple Store’s Genius Bar.

I’m telling you: If you’ve never seen this done well, you’re missing out. It addresses an age-old, oft-repeated complaint among journeyman church seekers who say they visited a church only to be largely ignored. Those who stumble upon a church that emphasizes “First Impressions” can tell you that the difference matters. Like the feeling you get at Chick-fil-A: “My pleasure.”

But “friendly” can only take you so far. What people are really looking for is “welcoming.” Because those two words are not synonymous.

Friendly makes you comfortable as a guest.
Welcoming makes room for you as a family member.

Friendly greets you.
Welcoming saves a seat next to you.

Friendly can be as shallow as, “I can’t stop you from coming in.”
Welcoming says, “Let me introduce you to a bunch of folks you’ll like.”

Friendly hands you a donut or coffee.
Welcoming hands you responsibility and shows you where on the rope you’re supposed to grab, alongside the rest of us.

If that’s your M.O., you’re nailing it. If not, then “WELCOME” will inevitably lead to disappointment for both the host and the guest, which leads me to Nitpick #2: EVERYONE.

Let me stress: I ascribe the purest intentions to those who post the “EVERYONE WELCOME” sign. I get it. But the truth is, this imprecision is misleading because not everyone can belong in the same way or participate frictionlessly.

Let’s face it: Some people just aren’t a match.

Look, we draw lines in all kinds of places for all kinds of reasons and with all kinds of intentions. Driver’s licenses, lifeguard qualifications, educational minimums, sniper proficiency, and so on. Some guys are allowed to date our daughters, and all others can exit quietly. “Thanks for stopping by.”

But welcoming doesn’t erase boundaries. It shouldn’t weaken structure or suspend discernment. Good stewardship means recognizing that most structures were built for good reasons. And before we go knocking down longstanding walls, we should make sure they aren’t load-bearing.

We should distinguish between human dignity and institutional roles.

If “EVERYONE WELCOME” is read as “Everyone belongs in every capacity,” the statement is false. If it’s read as “Everyone entering is treated with dignity along clearly defined moral standards,” it might very well be true.

Religious practitioners of all stripes have—and always have had—disagreements. They even disagree about their stripes. But they’ve learned to focus on the essentials and give the non-essentials room to breathe. That is, insist on what is essential to the core faith, and offer latitude on important secondary matters—without blocking each other on Facebook.

Most religious faiths, the good ones, anyway, don’t support an “anything goes” environment. They have standards that are rigorously protected to prevent them from falling prey to trendy “recent enlightenment.” They’re leery of rapid doctrinal revision sold as progress, without a track record to scrutinize. It’s one of the main reasons that longstanding religions have been standing so long.

If “EVERYONE” means “anyone, regardless of their character,” then I can all but promise you that rough seas are on the horizon. It isn’t prudish to require good-faith intentions from strangers. Helpless passivity toward malcontents, or worse, can’t be healthy for the community as a whole. Someone seeking to be included in your congregation with the objective of leading a doctrinal coup should not be welcomed. Being someone’s punching bag until they wear themselves out can’t be the meaning of “turn the other cheek.”

The burden of communication regarding acceptable behavior is always on the host, not the guest. While we can expect, and in many cases demand, certain conduct from strangers, they aren’t likely to be informed about all the important particulars. You’re the Home Team, they’re the Visitors.

We cannot offer strangers promises we can’t keep. We can’t promise we’ll suspend our closely held doctrines or the erasure of our thoughtful standards. We cannot promise a platform or a soapbox. We cannot promise that God’s calling on someone’s life will seamlessly integrate with the congregation’s particular calling.

Before you post a sign as ambiguous as “EVERYONE WELCOME,” be sure that you can easily and readily explain what that means. Maybe it’s something like this: