Is Your Church A Safe Space?

by Crystal St. Marie Lewis
R3 Contributor

This morning, I rolled out of bed to do something that I must admit I’ve become far less enthusiastic about doing now than I have been in years past. I rose from the comfort of my pillows, blankets and breezy open bedroom window to prepare myself for church. I was going there again (after only having gone a few times this year) to answer an unexplainable beckoning in my soul…

I am one of several million people who are slowly, sadly and without singular explanation, walking away from organized forms of Christianity. I knew this about myself as I combed my hair and put on my makeup. I knew it when I put on my shoes, grabbed my keys, and turned the door knob to exit my home. I knew it as I marched a slow dirge to the bus stop and boarded the public coach that would carry me across town. And I knew it as I got off the bus and walked at a leisurely pace, a pace that I was quite aware would surely cause me to arrive late at my destination. When I arrived there, I saw that the church had erected a new banner which befittingly read:

Come, come, whoever you are.
Wanderer, idolator, lover of leaving — it doesn’t matter,
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow a thousand times,
Come, yet again, come, come…

I arrived in time for the sermon which was titled “Celebration: Sanctuary for the accepted”. In it, the minister spoke to the definition of the word “sanctuary”– which at its root actually means “safe space”. He explained to a congregation of mostly “liberal” Christians from diverse walks of life that in his relatively long existence, he has come to understand the degree to which the world is filled with rejection. He explained that churches should be places where rejection is difficult to find. With beautiful, compassionate, and at times tearful conviction, he exhorted us to accept and love others– especially when the urge to reject them is greatest.

I listened to the minister’s sermon and cried along with him. I realized that I was crying, not because of the content of the sermon, but because I had finally started to understand why it had been so hard for me to find my way to church on Sunday mornings. I realized that I hadn’t felt safe with any congregation in a while. I suddenly knew in the span of a few minutes that I’ve come to feel more comfortable among those who don’t “feel safe” in our churches than with those who do.

I left that afternoon and thought about the degree to which our churches succeed at developing liturgies and programs, while often failing at developing a sense of authentic sanctuary for people who–whether because of their sexual orientation, political opinions, spiritual (or non-spiritual) practices, or what have you–have found themselves on the margins beyond the reach of the institutional church.

I thought about the trend in our society– the trend where people are running away from our “sanctuaries” because they feel unsafe there… And I thought about our response to them. It’s a response which erroneously insists that when churches “change” to accommodate people in need of acceptance or affirmation, they become unholy or “like the world.” (The irony is that when churches reject and therefore scar a soul in need, they are more like “the world” than any other institution on Earth.)

I would encourage my readers– particularly those of you in pastoral leadership– to ask yourselves whether your church is a safe space for people who need the love of God. Is your church a sanctuary for folks like my friends who are in love with people of the same sex, or for those whose mode of gender expression fall outside the bounds of social orthodoxy? Is your church a safe space for people who, like many of my readers, need clergy to walk with them while they pursue spiritual paths that take them beyond what a Sunday School class can offer? Is your church a safe space for people like me– people who are (as so beautifully described in the church banner) “wanderers” and at times unwitting “idolators” and unbound mystics who have become“lovers of leaving”?

Is there room on your pew for us when we feel beckoned to your church on Sunday morning? Will we find love, or will we find new reasons to run away? Is your church a safe space?

*First published at Crystal St. Marie Lewis