No Longer Strangers

Readings 102825 

My little country church is more than a building.
It is family.
It is community.
It is shared hope.

Family and community—two expressions of belonging.
One intimate, the other expansive.
Both woven together by love, by purpose, by the sacred call to care for one another.

Family is where grace is practiced in its most personal form—
in quiet forgiveness, in patient listening, in the daily choosing to stay.
Community is that grace multiplied—
extended outward into the world,
into pews and potlucks, into shared tears and shared prayers..

Together, they form the household of God.
A place where every soul finds a place.
Where brokenness is held tenderly.
Where unity is discovered not in sameness,
but in shared journey.

This is the vision we live out in our little church—
a household not just in name, but in spirit.
We strive to make sure no one feels like a stranger.

There’s a quiet ache in being a stranger.
A sense of hovering at the edges—
watching the warmth of belonging from outside the circle.
Many of us know that ache.
We’ve felt it in churches where our presence was questioned,
in conversations where our convictions were dismissed,
in communities where our love was deemed too different to be holy.

But the Word speaks a deeper truth:
You are no longer strangers and sojourners.
Not because we’ve earned a place.
Not because we’ve passed a test.
But because Christ himself has made a way—
drawing near to the margins,
gathering the scattered,
building a household where every soul is welcome.

This household isn’t built on charisma or credentials.
It stands on the witness of prophets and apostles—
those who spoke truth in trembling voices,
who walked dusty roads with open hands.
And at its heart is Christ Jesus, the capstone.
Not the gatekeeper,
but the cornerstone who binds the broken,
bridges the divides,
and blesses the humble.

To be fellow citizens with the holy ones
is not to claim superiority—
it is to embrace shared vulnerability.
To recognize that holiness is not perfection,
but communion.
That the household of God is not a fortress,
but a family.
And that unity is not uniformity,
but the Spirit’s harmony in our diversity.

So we stand—
cracked hearts, glowing with grace.
Hands reaching across divides.
Voices lifted in humble hope.
No longer strangers.
No longer sojourners.
But members of a household
where every story matters,
every scar is honored,
and every soul is held.

Household of Grace

Lord Jesus,
You welcome the weary and gather the scattered.
Make our church a true household of grace—
where no one feels like a stranger,
where brokenness is held,
and every soul finds a place.

Bind us together in humility and hope,
and let Your light shine through our shared journey.

Amen.