Return to the Lord your God, for he is merciful and compassionate, very patient, full of faithful love, and ready to forgive.

-Joel 2:13

 

Every Lent, when we give up our Alleluias, we change the words we sing before the Gospel is read to something like “Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.” Those words, from Joel, remind us that Lent is a season of coming back to God.

Often, when we read the instruction to “return” to God, we hear it as a command to repentance. Return to God as in turn away from all the distractions and temptations that draw you from God. Sure, that is a perfectly valid way to understand the verse. We need repentance; in fact, Martin Luther wrote, “When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said, 'Repent' [Matt. 4:17], he willed the entire life of believers to be one of repentance.”1

When it comes time to “return” to God, there is something else we also need: to feel confident that God actually wants us back. To feel that returning to God is more like a homecoming than a gallows walk. To feel welcome and wanted by God.

For some of us, that comes naturally. We’ve always, or at least usually, experienced church as a community of inclusion, of disciples who are confident about their sinfulness and even more confident about God’s compassionate mercy. We know that we can bring our whole selves, and that the worshipers around us will, on God’s behalf, hear our laments and joys and fears and hopes and confessions as well as speak the words: “In Jesus’ name, you are forgiven.” We have felt the indescribable peace that only comes from the Holy Spirit’s presence. We want others to feel at home with God, too.

But not everybody feels welcome to come home to God’s house. Too often, God’s house has gatekeepers, bouncers, or secret entrances. (Secret entrances are cool for the Justice League HQ; not so much for church.) This happens in all sorts of ways: when members of a church assume “everyone knows” how something is done, newcomers feel awkward for needing to ask. If the same people (or people from the same demographics) are always the ones with the final say, people on the margins get the hint that their input isn’t valued. Any time Christians carefully delineate sinners (like them) from saints (like us) as if we’re the ones who can tell sheep from goats, the people outside our holy boxes hear that they aren’t really welcome.

What if those of us who already feel at home in God’s house made a point of working to make sure others feel truly welcome, too? When you have guests to your own house, you make sure there’s enough seating for everyone. You check to make sure the food you’re serving will meet their dietary needs. You give them good directions and tell them which side of the street has parking. You forewarn them about your aggressive cat or put your rambunctious dog in the kennel. 

In God’s house, we should be even more alert to making space for others and attending to their needs for safety and welcome. After all, it’s not just our home, but a home for all God’s children. When we already feel cozy, we can not only invite others in but also listen to hear what would make them feel most welcome. That way, church would feel like home for more and more of God’s people.

So return to God this Lent. Go home. Rest in God’s love. And as you settle into the couch or pull up to the table, make sure you’re bringing along enough seats to let everybody find a welcome in God’s house.