“A few days later, when Jesus again entered Capernaum, the people heard that he had come home. They gathered in such large numbers that there was no room left, not even outside the door, and he preached the word to them. Some men came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. Since they could not get him to Jesus because of the crowd, they made an opening in the roof above Jesus by digging through it and then lowered the mat the man was lying on.” (Mark 2:1-4 TNIV)

Sometimes I feel like one of the crowd. I bet you do too. We are so intent and so focused on packing the house in order to hear a word for Jesus that we forget about people on the outside.

In Mark 2 we see a man with a real, physical problem. His body has betrayed him and left him helpless. He needs Jesus- both physically and spiritually. Only, the crowd is making it difficult to come to healing. Imagine the picture of what that paralytic saw. The non-verbal cues that the crowd was giving him.

Backs turned. Blinders on. “We’re in.” “You’re out.” Tough luck buddy. No time for you. Maybe next time.

Recently I read Dan Kimball’s newest book titled They Like Jesus but Not the Church. Ever since I have found myself looking critically at how others might see the church and, more importantly, how we in the church treat those who are outside of the house.

Earlier this week I sang We’re Marching to Zion with a group of college students in their chapel service. I’ll admit that I’m a sucker for the “ye olde hymns” but I found myself struggling with the second verse:

Let those refuse to sing
who never knew our God;
but children of the heavenly King,
but children of the heavenly King
may speak their joys abroad,
may speak their joys abroad.

Do we really mean that? Are we really a people who rejoice and act as though we are the only ones who can and should sing praises to the Father of Creation? I’d imagine that if a stranger wandered into our worship services and stood in the back of our auditoriums observing us as we sang this he would see what the paralytic saw.

Backs turned. Blinders on. “We’re in.” “You’re out.” Tough luck buddy. No time for you. Maybe next time.

As I read the old hymn on the screen immediately I was struck by the words in another song. The last few lines of U2’s City of Blinding Lights transformed this gorgeous rock song into a psalm of remembrance. From a ballad about a city to a modern-day hymn that challenges the way I think about who God truly is.

The more you know the less you feel
Some pray for, others steal
Blessings are not just for the ones who kneel
Luckily

Maybe I’m being hyper-sensitive. Maybe not. Maybe I just want to be one of the four friends. A friend to the helpless or spiritually dead and dying who is willing to tear open a hole in our clubhouses in order to bring people to Jesus.

We forget that at one time we too were on the outside. There was a time that we desperately needed to get to the Savior. There was a time that we didn’t, couldn’t, or wouldn’t kneel before God. And yet…

God blessed us anyway. His sun shines on the irreligious and the faithful alike. Luckily. Thankfully.

Do you live like you believe? If you really believe that God cares for everyone than quit turning you back on the ones who need Him the most. Don’t hinder those who need to come by making it difficult for them to see Jesus. Let everyone experience the joy of lifting their hearts in praise. Not just the ones who kneel.