Unwelcome Guests

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I decided last week that it was time for me to change something in my life. I have lived at my current address for almost four years, during which time I have had very few visitors to my domicile. Partly, this is my choice not really being one to entertain or disposed to clean for company. Partly this is due to the fact that other people live far from me or that we gather at common places rather than a residence for fun, frolic and frivolity. However, the most disappointing relationship since moving to this location has been with the congregation of my Faith, which seems to treat me more like an unwelcome guest than the invitation on the outside of our building implies, and I’m a member!

A week or so ago, my Faith randomly chose me to answer a questionnaire. Among the questions, they asked me if I felt welcome in varied degrees by the congregation to which I am geographically assigned. I replied with scathing commentary and pointed out that the Jehovah’s Witnesses visit me every quarter while to my knowledge members of my own Faith have only been to my house twice in four years. When I go to church, few of them talk to me beyond the vacuous exchanges Americans consider to be valid greetings, and when we’re out running errands, it doesn’t seem like any of them acknowledge me or even want to. In November 2013, I went to visit my Bishop for something he alone can provide, and he promised to get back to me. I haven’t heard from him since. In response to the questions, I intimated that I would rather not be visited by members of my congregation for any reason. At this point, I feel that they are as unwelcome in my house as they made me feel in God’s.

Accordingly, I exercised my right his week to change congregations. Normally, this is only accomplished either because you change your address or because they change the boundaries. I know of at least three families who relocated just to get out of this congregation. When people I knew expressed an interest in learning about my Faith, I attended church with them in a congregation near their house rather than mine because I would be embarrassed that members of my congregation basically ignore me and pretend I’m a bother of which they would rather be rid. I doubt very much that I will be missed. I am not sure I will be welcomed in the new congregation, but as I told my parents at dinner tonight, it can’t really be much worse. The other members are on a first name basis, but everyone calls me “Brother Surname”, establishing a wall of separation between myself and those with whom they are familiar. I do not feel like I belong. I feel like a red-headed stepchild. I feel like an ailing pet. In a place where I should be able to find refuge, I find more conflict. In a place where I should find friends, I find cold shoulders. This is however not new.

In 1996, Gordon B Hinckley, then president of the church, shared the following excerpt from a letter with the accompanying commentary:

“’I have encountered a variety of levels of welcome and acceptance, ranging from a warm, friendly welcome to a very cool indifference and an air of discomfort that seems to stem from their lack of knowing what to do with me. In one ward I felt strongly that the members would prefer that I not attend. This continued for nearly six months, and I finally sensed a passive acceptance, as though I were a nuisance that wouldn’t go away, and so must be tolerated.’ If that be the case, it is a tragedy. It represents a betrayal of the spirit that should be found in all of our congregations. Men and women such as you have great talents and can add immeasurably to the quality of the teaching and leadership in almost any ward in the Church. It is a general Church responsibility to remind bishops and other Church officers to give each member a warm welcome and to make use of his or her talents.”

Like this writer, I feel an air of indifference and discomfort concomitant with a desire that they prefer I not attend. Only one person reached out. None of them visit me. The people in positions of authority ignore me completely and then pat themselves on the back in our meetings for their virtues and charity last week. That was when I decided I had enough.

When your leaders act as if the transitory, material needs of people matter more than the eternal disposition of your soul, they need reminding of their duty. I have never been a Bishop, and unless my circumstances change drastically, I never will be (thank God), but I spoke to a friend of mine from High School who IS a bishop, and he intimated I was justified in bringing it to light. If you don’t know there’s a problem, you cannot fix it. It’s too late for me. I shant return, but I adjure you to consider how many other people may have turned away, not just from the congregation, but from the church and from the Christ because of the lack of love they feel. I am not an expert on love. I am an expert on not being loved, a fate from which I hope to save you.

On the wall behind my desk hangs a quote from the late Neal Maxwell that reads, “Each of us is an innkeeper who decides if there is room for the Savior”. Yes, I have a couch in my living room that is known to the guests I do have as the ‘unwelcome guest couch’ for people who I prefer leave. Nobody has ever sat in it. The unwelcome must know better than to come, and at this point, I wouldn’t let them in the door anyway. What I am doing however is making sure that if Christ came He would feel welcome. I’ve tidied up, organized, and I may even dust this weekend so that if He came He would feel comfortable enough or that if He sends someone who needs me that they will feel safe and protected and welcome in my company. However tidier these other people may have their homes, I have to wonder if He’d feel welcome there. They have made me feel very unwelcome as a guest in their midst. Christ taught, “even as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me,” and I feel their case may be awful for the way they treated me. I hope I’m wrong. May Christ be a welcome guest in your company in whatever form He may choose to appear.