Yesterday was the day, the day for my COVID vaccination. I waited for this day, when I could take another step in the safety of our family and a first step toward more breaking out of the past year’s restrictions. I was so thankful to get an appointment and I was ready. I was also filled with anxiety.
Some people are anxious around needles, or crowds. Other are anxious about the vaccination itself and possible side effects. None of these things affected me. I trust the science and know the vaccine is necessary. My anxiety stems from lack of information. The unknown leads to uncomfortable rather quickly for me.
As we drove the 45 minute trip to the site, I reflected on, nearly meditated on, the unknown. Where do I park? What entrance do I use? What paperwork needs to be ready first? Will my paperwork be correct. If I am early, where will I wait? By the time I arrived, I was quite uncomfortable. Then, I met the staff.
A man met me at the door, opened it for me, and directed me to a young woman who looked like she was a cruise director. She kindly asked to check my temperature and inquire about any possible exposure. Still smiling, she directed my to a table where another person checked off my appointment.
I then followed a series of dots on the floor that marked six-foot distances and directed my path. A woman greeted me again and directed me to a station with two nurses. They were comforting and calm, willing to answer any questions and explaining what they were going to do. I received my shot, and then a man led me to a properly distanced, just sanitized seat and asked me to wait 15 minutes. Staff kept checking to see if people were okay and offered some light conversation and humor. When my time came to leave, another person met me at the room and directed me to the exit.
Throughout the whole experience, I felt welcome and secure, quite the difference from how I felt when I parked. What made the difference? People. People with a concern for others. People who understood how those of us coming through would feel. People who practiced radical hospitality.
Walking back to the car, I was amazed by the hospitality. I immediately thought about people who visit church. We all want to believe we are welcoming, but is that what our guests experience? Do we take the time to think about how people will feel every moment they are with us? What do people need to feel safe and supported? How much hospitality do we actually show?
It is not my goal to diminish anything that the church tries to offer, but if we are offering our best for Christ, shouldn’t we do all we can to improve the way we welcome people in the name of the Lord? Are we willing to be uncomfortable, so that others can experience the power of radical hospitality?
I intentionally spend time with people outside the church. The truth is, they often have the best perspective on how well we are fulfilling our call. Just this week I read through some responses on Twitter to the question, “Do you go to church?” I was amazed. I expected some zealous Christians and some equally zealous atheists. What I did not expect was the vast number of comments that spoke of leaving the church due to deep wounds, theology that wounded people, and lack of love. One person said, “I have never felt as insignificant and unwanted as when I was in church. I’ll never go back.”
My heart breaks in moments like these. I used to be someone who excused these concerns away. “That was one pastor or one church,” “It was probably bad communication,” or worst of all, “They probably just couldn’t handle the truth.” I am ashamed to admit I ever thought this way. Now, I recognize the powerful need to listen, to really hear, not just the words, but the heart of the person sharing them. I need to care and accept that we often miss the mark, and sometimes, we cause harm. That is not what comes to mind when I ask the question, “What would Jesus do?”
Maybe, it is time for the church to look at some volunteers and medical workers who cared enough to offer such amazing hospitality to people who came confused, afraid, and anxious. Maybe, as we return to worship services and church activities, we can come back in a new way, with a new mission. Maybe, our hospitality could be so filled with the love of Christ that people would not only feel welcome and wanted, but come away knowing they are transformed by the experience.
When I left the vaccine site, my step was faster and lighter. I had a smile on my face and hope in my heart, and the first thing I did was tell someone, then some others, and then even more. I experienced something in the short time I was there. It changed me. I believe it is time for the church to be the church, offering radical hospitality that makes an eternal difference in the lives of all who cross our path.
