Room at the Inn?

I went to a meeting with friends from church. They were so pleased to have heard someone say "thank God" on television, so thrilled that "they can't censor that." I refrained from asking what made them think anyone was out to censor it. And I refrained from looking too deeply into why their words made me feel so uncomfortable. After all, wouldn't I also thank God if I were spared from the ravages of a tornado?

I went to another meeting with friends who aren't from church. They were so upset to have heard someone say "thank God" on television. What should others say, they asked, who had lost loved ones? Should they blame God? Or maybe "thank God" means "I'm good enough to get my prayer answered, and the rest of you aren't good enough." How cruel, how evil, to pile that accusation on top of pain.

They said, "No offense intended, Sheila," and I took no offense. Their comments opened my eyes to why I'd felt uncomfortable before. And I pray, if God spares me from disaster, I might add "I wonder why he spared me, because I'm not worthy" to my "thank God."

I believe God spares us because he loves us. I believe he sits beside us in our suffering because he loves us. I believe he takes us home because he loves us. And I believe I'll never understand it, until he takes me home.

So, most of all, I thank God for his love, and for Jesus whose birth we celebrate this season, who shows us God's love for ... the outcast, the sinner, the helpless, the sick, the scared, the lonely, the rejected, the member of the "wrong" religion, the one who "wrongly" uses their sexuality ... the "wrong" because if we're so sure we're "right" we'll have closed the door to him -- no room at our "inn."