Hugging Perfect Strangers

Once a year my church has an outdoor worship service at a park on a lake. And every year we all pray that the weather will be amenable to sitting in chairs in a big grassy area. This year, we were doubling up the prayers for no rain since it feels like we’ve had nothing but rain since the summer began. Thankfully, it was a breezy, pleasant, and sunny morning. The only ones uncomfortable with this weather were the musicians’ music stands, which took a few spills.

Most people sat in lawn chairs, but there were a few gym mats in the front of the grassy area where kids could be wiggly and move around. As the service started I realized that I forgot to put sunscreen on my kids, so I quickly kneeled down near the mat and applied some to my daughter’s shoulders and face. As I did so, I was surprised to suddenly feel another child (not one of mine) put all his weight on my back and give me the biggest hug. I said thanks and giggled, and the little boy who showed me this outpouring of love said in my ear, “So who are you?”

I thought about the awkward but sweet exchange that we had. He seemed to have it all backwards: showing love and then finding out who I was … but maybe I was the one who had it backwards.

The reading for the service was from the third chapter in the book of Mark when Jesus’ mother and brothers show up and ask for him, and Jesus says, “Who are my mother and brothers?” And looking at those seated around him he says, “Here are my mother and my brothers.” The preacher that morning  talked about how we, who are loved by Christ, are all family. Looking around at the gathering, which was composed of four different churches in the area, Jesus’ words rang true. Here were all of my mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters in Christ, most of whom I didn’t even know yet. We might not always get along, but we are nonetheless family.

Well after the service ended, I kept thinking about that hug. As adults, we tend to follow the “correct” order of things when we meet someone: introduction, first impressions, learn more about each other, decide if we feel a connection with that person, count how many things we have in common, and then spend sufficient time with that person to then call them a friend. We consciously or unconsciously have our litmus tests to decide if someone is worthy of our love. We would never outright say it this way because we know we are supposed to love everyone.

With so much division in our world, I wonder what would happen if we decided we were family before learning whether we agree with their politics, or whether they eat organic or meat, or what they do for a living, or what they allow their children to do or not do, etc. What if we loved first, and learned later … how would those differences be perceived then?

That scripture in Mark has always been challenging to me. I love my family and consider them to be a top priority in my life. So when Jesus seems to be giving friends, acquaintances, and even complete strangers (as much as anyone can be a complete stranger to the Son of God) the same standing as his own mother and brothers, I don’t get it! I have always had the desire to live near family, but God has always taken me elsewhere, and to be honest it makes me a little bitter. But on days like that outdoor service, God reminds me to look around, and he says, “Here is your family.”

As far as Jesus was concerned, there is no competition for love. There is no favoritism. The family we have been given to love extends far beyond those with whom we share a name. Love is not a limited resource, but multiplies.

Jesus did not wait for us to prove ourselves before he chose to love us. We were not introduced to him needing to make a good first impression. He did not assess how many things we had in common or measure whether we were someone worth investing his time. To him, we did not move from stranger, to acquaintance, to friend, to beloved family. Instead, he treats us as a brother or sister before we have had a chance to prove ourselves (un)worthy. His is a love, unconditional, a love that never gives up, is never defeated, and with you to the very end and beyond. In this multiplying, unlimited economy of love of his, there is the freedom and joy to call others our family, to give a perfect stranger an unexpected hug and then ask, “So who are you?”