For as long as I can remember, I have wrestled with feeling on the outside of things.
When I changed schools in 4thgrade, I felt like an outsider for weeks. In 8thgrade, my school handed out something called the “Sister Mary Catherine” award to the student the teachers recognized as the kindest student. I was shocked when I was awarded it, because as much as I had a lot of friends, I suffered pangs of envy when it came to certain people who I perceived to be more popular and nicer than me.
In high school I tried out to be a cheerleader and when my best friend got on the team and I didn’t, I felt like an outsider. When I was in college and all the students were developing close friendships in dorms, burdened by an eating disorder that left me in and out of the hospital for years, I felt like an outsider.
When I became a Christian, my co-workers thought me strange, and I felt a new kind of being outside.
Even when others viewed me as an insider, having it all together, I internally felt like I didn’t fit. The reasons for this are as varied as the situations.
And let me tell you, if you haven’t experienced this, it’s no fun to feel as though you are outside looking in.
But I don’t think I have to tell you that. Because I’m going to bet you’ve felt that.
Especially if you are wrestling with the church.
My perceived “outsider” label didn’t stop at the doors of the churches I entered. I always wished I sang better so I could lead worship. Then I’d wish I were a little more extroverted so I could go to the 8pm meetings instead of wanting to just go to bed. Then I wished I were part of the leadership team so I’d feel more a part of the church. At times I wished I was not female, wanting to run from the men who didn’t seem to know what to do with me—a woman with strong opinions on leadership and integrity and honesty.
But you know what? Feeling like an outsider isn’t new. The Bible is rife with those who felt—and actually were—outsiders. I mean, well, Adam and Eve actually WERE kept outside that glorious garden. Joseph was mocked and eventually sold by his own flesh and blood. The people of God journeyed 40 years in the wilderness with no home to call their own.
Rahab likely felt like an outsider. As did Ruth. And Esther, who lived, isolated, in a home away from her people. And all the prophets—can you imagine what it felt like to continually be mocked and scoffed at?
Maybe you can.
And Mary and Joseph, outside the inn; outside all the places of warmth and comfort. And Paul and Silas singing in the prison, punished for… what?
You know who else was an outsider? Yeah, Him. The most important person in the history of the world and in the reality of our lives. The one who, by his very abandonment, brought us near so that, in truth, we would forever beinsiders.
Inside of his love. Embraced by his arms. Marked by his name. Set apart for him forever.
Jesus.
No one was an outsider to Jesus. Not then, not now. He is the one who inspired the Gospel writers to pen the words that said:
- All are invited to his banquet.
- None are greater or less in the kingdom.
- All are equal at the foot of the cross.
- He cares about the widows and orphans and poor and marginalized.
- Before you even call to him, he answers.
- He desires all to come to a knowledge of him.
- You are the apple of his eye.
- There is no place where God’s love isn’t.
In God’s church, there is no label “outsider,” and if you been made to feel like one, this is a fictitious story told only by those who are afraid of the power of diversity in God’s family. And if you simply believe you are in outsider, reread the above and let’s do a quick Bible check. There is no time or point when God loves your pastor more than you. Or your small group leader more than you. Or your friend more than you.
I was reminded of this lately when a dear friend told me the story of seeing God restore the eyesight of a woman blind for 20 years. Yeah, my friend saw this. And yes, she cried.
When she told me this story I was overwhelmed by the love of God. This woman, seemingly a nobody by the world’s standards, was so precious to our God that he wanted her to know how much he loved her. His miracle reminds me—us—that all of us deeply matter to God.
If that reminds you of the widow and her mite, it should. And the children sitting at Jesus’ knee. And the blind man. And the woman at the well. Outsiders. All of them.
But never really outsiders at all to Jesus.
Never.
When we wander around looking for the truth of “What is the church today?” we can be certain of this one thing: even when we wander, we are never outside.
You will ever and always be on the inside of the love of Christ, a precious child he desires to be near every moment of the day.
The label “outsider” in God’s church is anathema. All of us, with open faces, shall see the glory of the Lord. Because we can’t be anything butinsiders to our glorious and wonderful Savior, Jesus Christ.
Reflect on that this week, my friends!
Much love, Laurie
I have been an outsider from birth. Only one person ever really loved me and God took him.
Lindee, this breaks my heart. I am adding you to my regular prayer list! Isaiah 49:16 comes to my mind: “See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.” Isn’t that incredible? He has your name, Lindee, on his hands, forever. No way to be an outsider when you are in the palm of his hands. But there is something about being loved by others that also is powerful. When we say, “Jesus is enough,” is that really true? Your suffering is real and I am sorry. I wish I could hug you and tell you that you are precious! I am praying, Lindee, for God to put someone into your life who is caring and compassionate and kind and who will love you as you deserve to be loved. In the meantime, keep leaning on Jesus. He adores you; he knitted you together and holds you in the palm of his hand.
Hi, Laurie, just a couple of thoughts on this encouraging piece:
First, as to that second bullet point under the Gospel writers’ words, “None are greater or less in the kingdom,” I would add that they also remind us that “The first shall be last, and the last, first.” There will be a reckoning of sorts, and those of us “outside” will someday find ourselves seated at His table.
And secondly, whether or not we accept that we are never outsiders to Christ, being outsiders to other Christians takes a toll in stress, and that is no small thing. Like Elijah, we feel alone and need that “still, small voice” of reassurance (and correction) that only God can speak. But in the meantime we are alone, and there is a significant cost to that.
Amen, B.L.! What a glorious day that shall be when we shall see Jesus face to face and be near to him. You know what I’ve found? I’ve found that the most amazing people are those who are often seated at the lesser seats here… those who are overlooked and treated as second-tier citizens. In an effort to be “included” we exclude. It’s such a hard balance for us here on earth.
As to your second point, I completely agree. There is no reason that we should have to settle for being outsiders. You know what I’ve found through my own story? I actually think that feeling like an outsider can be a blessing in disguise. It can draw us nearer to God’s heart, which is one where he loves and watches over the marginalized and the orphan and the forgotten. In our experience we can actually be healers for others who feel the same. We understand that. I deeply believe that we never go through what we do without a reason. Here, the hurting can serve as healers. “I understand what you are going through” becomes so meaningful and takes on a new level of empathy and love. We must cry out, “For whom is my hurting for, God? For me alone? For others?” I have a sense it’s usually for others. We become funnels that pour out the love of God that he has poured into us. Thoughts?