These are turbulent times we are living in. Everyday the onslaught of media headlines and social media posts are overwhelming. At times it seems too much to bear. Other times, we just have to laugh or go insane, trusting that Jesus is real and His presence is near. In these times, I take comfort in the reality that I serve another King and march to another drum. For my allegiance is not to the current administration but to Jesus, who is bringing a subversive kingdom of grace and love to the world where the oppressed are set free and the broken-hearted are healed.

Where we are all welcome at the table of God.

As The Practicing Church, we are currently going through the gospel of Luke and we see this theme of hospitality and welcome over and over again. In fact the life and ministry of Jesus can be seen as a divine "visitation" to the world, seeking hospitality. A story of One who came as visitor and guest who then becomes host and offers a hospitality in which the entire world can become truly human, be at home, and know salvation in the depths of their hearts. That all would know the extravagant love of God and the scandalous grace that Jesus offered.

This past week I came across this wonderful NPR article about welcome, acceptance and grace that inspired me. And it made me laugh. Which is important too. We have to keep our sense of humor.

But I do think it is more important now than ever to offer the grand welcome of God -- especially when there are so many messages against.
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Against the refugee, the Muslim, those of different race or color or gender or sexuality or socio-economic status. It is important to say, You are welcome. You are all welcome. The message of this kingdom of love is for everyone. Jesus made that clear and was always offending the religious people of his day by his scandalous welcome, eating and drinking with the riff raff, the poor, the drunks, the prostitutes, the disabled, the sick, the disenfranchised, and the tax collectors, just modern day bullies and thieves. And so if this is who Jesus welcomed. And if He welcomes me in all of my brokenness and depravity.

Then I believe that now is the time to proclaim the wide scope of God's grace and welcome for all people.

We extend a special welcome to those who are single, married, divorced, widowed, straight, gay, confused, well-heeled or down-at-heel. We especially welcome wailing babies and excited toddlers. We welcome you whether you can sing like Pavarotti or just growl quietly to yourself. You're welcome here if you're just browsing, just woken up or just got out of prison. We don't care if you're more Christian than Pope Francis or haven't been to church since Christmas 10 years ago. We extend a special welcome to those who are over 60 but not grown up yet and to teenagers who are growing up too fast.

We welcome soccer moms, football dads, CrossFit fanatics, starving artists, tree huggers, latte sippers, vegetarians, and junk food eaters. We welcome those who are in recovery or still addicted. We welcome you whether you have lived here for a week, a year or a lifetime, whether you speak Spanish, Amharic, Korean, Vietnamese, or Tigrinya, whether you have light skin or dark, whether you wear a baseball hat or a hijab, whether you have a hankering for tortillas, injera, samosas or hotdogs.  We welcome you if you're having problems, are down in the dumps or don't like organized religion. We're not that keen on it either. We offer welcome to those who think the Earth is flat, work too hard, don't work, can't spell, or are here because Granny is visiting and wanted to come to church. We welcome those who are inked, pierced, both or neither.

We offer a special welcome to those who could use a prayer right now, had religion shoved down their throats as kids or who had a run in with google maps and wound up here by mistake. We welcome pilgrims, tourists, seekers, doubters and you.

▪ English Cathedral Welcomes Visitors with Unexpected Message. January 15, 2017. NPR. Author unknown. A few words have been altered to fit our context.

by Jessica Ketola

This week I am mindful of what a historic week this is for us. This Monday, we celebrated Martin Luther King Day and I know that many of us found ourselves re-inspired by his words that resonate so deeply today. And this Friday, we will inaugurate a president known for his divisiveness, racism, xenophobia and misogyny in the midst of a turbulent and hostile political climate. And Saturday, many of us will march in the Women’s March standing for human rights that seem to be increasingly under siege, advocating for gender equality, racial equality and economic justice.
 
And I find myself asking, how do we create the world that we want to live in right here in our own local contexts in a world gone mad? How do we participate in the work of listening, cross-cultural friendships and working towards equality and justice for everyone in our communities? At times, this may seem downright impossible, especially if you pay any attention to the national news. We are a people divided – down gender lines, political lines, racial lines, and economic lines.
 
But I believe that the church has a role here. And especially the church that is committed to the flourishing of a particular place and all the people who live there. I believe in the power of change in the local, among neighbors and mothers, gardeners and dog walkers. Though admittedly, the church has not always been known for the kind of radical hospitality, inclusiveness and invitation that Jesus demonstrated, I believe that this is our call as the church and a sign of hope for our communities. The small taste that I have experienced here in my own neighborhood of sharing meals and friendship across culture, race and economic divides has been a little glimpse of heaven.  
 
Recovering this practice of hospitality is essential today in our communities that have grown insular, defensive, fearful and harsh. “Through the practice of Christian hospitality the church participates in God’s peaceable kingdom,” Darrell Guder has observed. “Such hospitality indicates the crossing of boundaries (ethnic origin, economic condition, political orientation, gender status, social experience, educational background) by being open and welcoming of the other. Without such communities of hospitality, the world will have no way of knowing that all God’s creation is meant to live in peace.”
 
I want to continue to use my voice to speak out for peace and to advocate for justice, and I am excited to march on Saturday to stand with my sisters and daughters all across this nation. And yet, it is not enough. Unless I am participating in justice right here with my own neighbors. Unless I am forging friendships across difference. Unless I am extending the kind of radical hospitality that Jesus did when he welcomed the marginalized and oppressed groups of his day – the tax collectors, Samaritans, women, lepers, the addicts and those employed in the sex trade, the disabled and the poor.
 
As The Practicing Church, I long to live into this kind of hospitality where all are invited to the feast of God. Like a party scene from the gospels at the home of the tax collector most famously portrayed in this controversial painting, Feast at the House of Levi by Paolo Veronese (1573). In its time, it was subject to scrutiny by the Roman Catholic Inquisition for its irreverence, indecorum and even heresy. How quickly we forget how scandalous the grace is that we’ve been given. That we are guests of the hospitality of Christ invited home into the upside-down ways of the kingdom, where the poor are rich, the oppressed are mighty, the scandalous are given dignity, the lonely are put into families, and where our cultural, racial and economic divides disappear as we stand together as children of God. In the words of Martin Luther King Jr., “I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality… I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.”

by Jessica Ketola

Four years ago, when I began to explore what it might mean to live life with other followers of Jesus rooted in my neighborhood to join God’s work of renewal there, I wondered. Was this really possible? In our suburban/semi-urban context of Shoreline, Washington. In our church that in many ways looked like a traditional American church. Was this ever going to work?

And I have to admit I had my doubts along with a healthy dose of envy and insecurity. Like any good Enneagram Type 4, this is just to be expected. As I walked “hipper”, “cooler” or perhaps more “needy” neighborhoods with my Leadership in the New Parish cohort, I was in awe of how people were living together with this dream. To share life with others in an intentional way in a particular place. To join God there. To work towards a collective dream so that all would flourish. To be in it for the long haul. It just made sense. And all the things that I found to be incongruent or dissonant about the church started to find their home in the context of the neighborhood. The fragmented, broken pieces being fit together in this beautiful picture of what life in community was meant to be. Not the Utopia. But the stubborn hope of new creation popping up in the midst of the gritty and often difficult realities of everyday life. Where our hearts break as human suffering threatens to overwhelm us. And where our hearts ache with the beauty that persists even still. And it struck a chord in me that continues to reverberate.