Spiritual Welcome

We've been talking this week about spiritual abuse, and it only makes sense for our Communion reflection to touch on this topic, as well. Because more often than not, when you're being spiritually abused, you don't feel welcome at this Table. 

How could you? 

Someone in the church (usually in the church, but at a minimum someone who has connected themself strongly with the faith) has told you that you aren't welcome in certain places. That you're a handful. That you're a pain in the hind end. That you're more trouble than you're worth. That you're a disaster, a train wreck, and nobody can deal with you on any meaningful basis. 

So why would Jesus?

Not only that, but you've probably also been told that you just like to draw attention to yourself, that you're dramatic. So you assume your presence really ruins a party. If you show up to this Table, people are going to start talking about how you think you're worth something and how you're just trying to be part of something that you don't have any business being part of and how you just want people to notice you, so you crashed this party. 

So...why would you come?

Your spiritual abuser may step in here, again, and say that of course, he's happy to break bread with you, no matter what everyone else thinks (while also subtly hinting to you what "everyone else" thinks). But...this is a Table with Jesus. 

And having someone convince you that you are not welcome here is the worst form of spiritual abuse there is. 

You are welcome. 

Jesus loves you. 

And listen, when I say that, I'm not saying, "Jesus even broke bread with Judas, so of course you're welcome here, you piece of garbage betrayer." No. That's just more spiritual abuse. 

You are welcome here because you are beautifully and wonderfully made. Because you are the work of the Master's hands. Because He knit you together in your mother's womb and knew you before you even took your first breath. Because He knows the number of hairs on your head at any given moment, even when you're pulling them out from the frustration of feeling unlovable. Even then, you are loved for exactly who you are. 

Which, by the way, is probably not who your spiritual abuser tells you that you are. 

So listen, at least here, at least at this Table, to the voice of Jesus, who says, "Come." Come as you are. Come to Me. Come have this bread that I have prayed a blessing over just for you. 

You. Are. Welcome. Here. 

Don't let anyone convince you otherwise.