One of the joys of being pastor of the congregation I serve is the wide diversity of people with whom I work. When it comes to politics, you can find almost any point of view in our congregation. We serve people at many different stages of life. I often visit with a family planning a funeral of a loved one and another family to plan a baptism in the same week. At this time of the year we are preparing to send young adults off to college and military service and witness the launch of their adult years and we frequently get to welcome home people who have worked their entire careers in other locations who are now coming back home to retire.

Among the contrasts are the homes in which I visit. I might be invited into a tiny apartment for coffee one day and a family home for dinner another day. I might lunch with folks who frequently eat out in restaurants and in the same week attend an anniversary party in a legion building or fraternal hall. I’ve been invited into some of the most run down trailers in the obscure neighborhoods of our community and also into some of the very large homes with exclusive addresses. I’ve looked out at some of the best views in the hills and wandered around broken-down vehicles to get to a home where the curtains remain closed because the neighbor’s place is only a few feet away.

I can understand why some people choose to live in rural and isolated locations. When I head out to a lonely home that many would call “in the middle of nowhere,” I am invited by wide open spaces, the cry of the eagle overhead and the expanse of stars stretching from horizon to horizon. I’ve never been good at close spaces. Susan and I did live in an apartment in Chicago with locks at the entryway, locks at the stairwells and locks on our individual apartments, but I never got good at feeling at home in that setting.

What I have noticed is the graciousness of the people I serve. When I enter their homes they work hard to make me feel comfortable. They are generous in offering refreshment and food and attentive to my comfort.

Although I spend a lot of time meeting and working with people, I am not natural at social gatherings and have had to work hard and learn how to handle myself in those settings. I live for community and love the relationships I have with other people, but I can be quite happy all by myself. When I think of a relaxing evening, I am not immediately drawn to going out. I enjoy just being in my home, sitting in my library or heading to the lake with a small boat.

I sort of have to get myself up for an evening out with other folks. It often seems to me that others are far better in such settings than I. I worry about what to wear, how to present myself, whether I am talking too little or too much, and all sorts of other concerns. It is hard work for me to act like I’m relaxing in an unfamiliar setting. I know that the issue is my own attitude, but attitudes are hard to change.

Once, not too long ago, we sat at a beautiful table in a beautiful home. I remember thinking to myself that the table and chairs must be worth more than all of the furniture in my home. Then I thought that we don’t have any room in our home that is big enough for such a table. Then I looked down the big table and realized that conversations would have to be with those nearest to me. Even reaching to pass a dish from one side of the table to the next would be a stretch. No worries, the host had put serving dishes on both sides of the table. I was feeling just a little awkward and out of place as another guest, pulling out his chair and sitting down commented, “I love to sit at this table, it is always so inviting.” We were approaching the same table. We were being hosted in the same gracious fashion. But our perceptions couldn’t have been much more different.

On the other hand, it wasn’t long ago that I went with another church member to evaluate a possible volunteer project for some members of our church. We were invited into a very old trailer house that might be considered by some to be substandard housing, with plywood where a window used to be and a tiny kitchen table that our host had to clear of clutter as we sat down. I felt completely at home in that setting and was enjoying the relaxed nature of our host. The other church member who was with me was visibly uncomfortable and later, when we got in my car to head back to the church expressed relief at leaving the home.

We are just different in our comfort levels and different in our tolerance for particular settings.

The blessing of this particular congregation is that we seem to have all kinds of people. Some are not intimidated by the trappings of wealth. Some are not put off by the obvious effects of poverty.

I suspect that most of the time most people tend to socialize and live their lives among people who are very similar to them. They tend to hang out with folks whose financial means are similar to theirs. They tend to talk to people who agree with them. They tend to see only a slice of our community. Our congregation gives me the invitation to step out of my comfort zone and participate in the lives of folks who are very different from me. It is a blessing and a challenge at the same time.

Each time I rise to the challenge, I am able to see the blessing.

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