In Praise of Peculiar People

A few years ago, a ministry colleague prayed, what was for me, a very convicting prayer. She thanked God for one of our more, shall we say, idiosyncratic members. “God, thank you for entrusting this sweet person to us. Help us to love and care for this precious son/daughter as you would.” If we had sung an invitation song, I would have gone forward after her prayer. I am not always as gracious.

I’d say that I don’t know how it is in your church, but as a matter of fact, I do. You have some strange members. Every church does. The word unconventional toucheth not the hem of the garment. They are just downright quirky. They say and do harebrained things, dress bizarrely and generally walk around your gatherings spreading all kinds of kookiness. You’re probably thinking of that person right now. But if no one is coming to mind, well . . . .

I knew a dear sister who introduced herself as Jesus. She came forward at the invitation every Sunday several weeks in a row. Of course, it looked pretty good in the bulletin: “Jesus responded to Jody’s sermon . . . again.” But it got old quick. So one Sunday, I asked our women’s minister to sit with Jesus to prevent her from walking the big aisle. When we all stood to sing, here came Jesus, dancing her way down front. Barefoot. She had crawled under several pews to escape her escort, who followed close behind with the shoes.

There’s the sweet sister who didn’t just answer her cell phone during a sermon – she initiated the call. The brother who sported an apron, a bow tie, and a painter’s hat while handing out flowers he’d cut from a neighbor’s yard. The sister who snapped flash pictures of me every Sunday. While I was preaching.

Most of us avoid our more colorful brothers and sisters the way we steer clear of wobbly wheeled shopping carts at Walmart. If you’re a hard-core Christian, one of the Navy Seals of your church, you love on them as much as you can, but even you grow weary of the wackiness. So what do we do with our flaky fellow saints?

My colleague’s prayer is a good place to start – we recognize that God has entrusted us with their care. These interesting members likely fall into that subset of believers Jesus called “the least of these,” (Mt. 25:34 – 40). Often, they are vulnerable to being taken advantage of, bullied or laughed at by others. Our task, then, is to befriend, defend and protect. Sometimes, we may need to coach them if their eccentricity becomes disruptive. Telling them the truth, gently, is both loving and respectful. And there may even be situations in which we need to arrange and pay for the help of a mental health professional.

Then there’s the undeniable fact that God has often used some pretty strange people to work his will. Ezekiel (chapter 4) cooked his meals over cow dung and played with toy soldiers as a testimony against Israel. For three years, Isaiah belonged to a one-man nudist colony (Isaiah 20:3). Jeremiah (27:2) wore a horse collar. I’m not saying your more unconventional members are providing a divinely ordained prophetic performance. But it could be that they are teaching us to serve those from whom we may expect to gain nothing.

The truth is, we may need these off-the-wall followers of the way more than they need us. Paul said the weakest, least important members of the body are actually the most necessary, (1 Cor. 12:22). In Life Together, Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “Every Christian community must realize that not only do the weak need the strong, but also that the strong cannot exist without the weak. The elimination of the weak is the death of fellowship.” It’s worth remembering that when Bonhoeffer wrote those words, scores of people deemed unfit were being trucked off to concentration camps.

So this Sunday, consider it all joy when you encounter one of your more remarkable members. Embrace the opportunity. It is, after all, what Jesus did for you.