Greeting Might Be Ruining Things

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In Denmark, Madagascar, Mexico, the United States–
In black suits, tee shirts, or calico dresses–
Three at every entrance or one crammed into the tiny foyer–

In every Adventist church I have ever been to anywhere in all the world there have been greeters. These are the faithful saints who hand you the bulletin, say “Happy Sabbath” with a smile, and watch you wander toward what you think is the sanctuary. They are Team Friendly and their presence might be the very reason people don’t feel welcomed at your church.

There is an enormous distance between greeting a guest and welcoming them. Like, a Grand Canyon-sized divide between greeting and welcoming.

Greeting is happy to see a new person walk through the door. Greeting acknowledges your arrival with courtesy and a show of friendliness. Greeting probably says “Welcome” when you arrive. Greeting smiles at you and subtly reassures you that you have made it to the place you intended to visit that day. Greeting hands you a bulletin to read.

But Welcoming learns your name. Welcoming cares about who you are and is glad that you in particular walked through the door. Welcoming wants to know if you have lunch plans and invites you over. Welcoming introduces you to another friend. Welcoming tells you about the frisbee golf outing you read about on the announcement slide and personally invites you to the park tomorrow afternoon to join a team.

Because all of our churches have greeters posted at the door, we feel confident that every visitor who walks into church this Sabbath has been smiled at and spoken to and been wished a happy Sabbath. And that confidence that we have in the effectiveness of our greeters makes us feel like the visitors have gotten all they need and we’re off the hook. We have basically outsourced our Christian obligation to welcome the stranger.

A personal story: My husband and I were new to town and just a mile from a church (that actually had a website!). We show up one Sabbath and are enthusiastically greeted by two ladies at the door. They hand us a mug with the church name and logo, and it has a few pencils and a notepad sitting in it. We find our seats for the service and it’s not long before the song leader asks the question no visitor wants to hear: “Do we have any visitors here this morning?” We probably would have tried to pretend we weren’t visitors, but the two of us were obviously of a different skin tone than everyone else in the congregation. After seeing our hands sheepishly raised, we were asked to stand and wave to the congregation, who was staring and clapping for us. [Note: Please don’t do this to visitors. It is objectively the worst.]

When the service ended, I and my husband smiled at a few of the people milling about and we made our way into the foyer. Where we stood alone for 15 minutes. Not a single person approached us or engaged us or acknowledged us with a handshake. It was awkward and finally we couldn’t take it anymore and we left.

It was obvious that we were visitors. If our skin tone and pencil-holding-mug weren’t a dead giveaway, then the embarrassing public display during the song service sure was. Every single person who passed by us or looked through us in that foyer after church knew that we were visitors and they chose not to meet us or learn our names or invite us for lunch. Why would these (probably well-meaning and otherwise nice) people leave us standing alone in their full church? Because they knew we had been thoroughly greeted and so there was no need for them to welcome us.

People who visit your church are looking for more than a greeting; they are looking for a church family, they are looking for friends, they are looking for a spiritual home, they are looking for a place to get connected and integrated, they are looking for a welcome. Be the one this Sabbath who offers it to them.

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