Recently, I asked a young usher what he thought were his responsibilities. He said, “Nothing more than being there, shaking hands, finding my place in the aisle, taking the offering, and showing up for an occasional ushers meeting.”
I questioned if he was seeing the whole picture. As we talked, he became excited about the ministry of hospitality. Greeting people is a unique function, based on a gift and disciplined by dedication. It is part of the work of the church, not just church work.
Four images help clarify the role.
A Hospital For The Hurt
When people gather for worship, many of them are desperate for care. They might wear designer clothes, not hospital robes, yet they are hurting just the same. Steve Brown, pastor of Key Biscayne (Fla.) Presbyterian Church, says that whenever he preaches, he tries to remember that at least six out of ten have a serious hurt.
I recently received a letter. “I’ve been kept through a lot of things—my dad being murdered when I was 12. From approximately age 20 to 35 I went through severe depression—several hospitalizations, shock treatments, several attempts at taking my own life—then healing from and through Jesus Christ. Then my call into the ministry. So often, I have felt so inferior.” I dare say that many times this person went to church and sat with people who had no idea what was going on inside.
Ushers are something like the admitting department of the hospital. It is part of our ministry to be sensitive to the hurt.
Lower Lights
There’s a story behind the old hymn “Let the Lower Lights Be Burning.” It refers to a shipwreck caused when the harbor lights were not on, even though the lighthouse tower light was on. Philip Bliss, the composer, saw Christ as the lighthouse, but Christians as the harbor lights. So he wrote, “Trim your feeble lamp, my brother; / Some poor sailor tempest tossed, / Trying now to make the harbor, / In the darkness may be lost.”
As ushers, we are special harbor lights to identify those people who may be trying to make the harbor.
Richard Halverson, chaplain of the U.S. Senate, says that when he is on the platform, he looks at the audience, tries to sense who needs prayer, and prays for them. Not only does he obey Christ in praying for them, he also prepares his heart to serve them if the occasion arises. Likewise, good ushers stay sensitive to storm-tossed people.
A Home For The Lonely
A recent survey showed that one out of four Americans suffers with painful loneliness. Older women in the upper middle class are the most afflicted by loneliness—the very ones who come to church most often.
One research physician at Johns Hopkins calls loneliness the number one killer—“another illness goes on the death certificate, but the prime cause was loneliness.”
Many times, the only genuinely friendly greeting a person gets is from an usher at church. When an usher was busy, I’ve seen some people wait until they could shake hands. It occurred to me then how many people come for that human touch.
Once, after speaking in Kentucky, I was talking with a group of people. On the edge stood a small, elderly woman who, when the others wandered off, came up and asked, “Would you hug me?” Warmly, I did. She looked up with a cherubic, beaming face, paused, and sort of waddled off. I wondered how long that hug would have to last before she got another.
Lest I become maudlin, I emphasize that lonely people should also help themselves. The church cannot know all the lonely people. But the church should rightly be an oasis where the hurting and lonely can find someone who cares.
An Atmosphere That Attracts
Recently a friend invited me to dinner in a new restaurant. Arriving a little early, I was met by the maître d’, and never have I been received more graciously. I was welcomed, even honored. When I asked if there was a public phone, he said. “Please, use mine.” I had become a member of his elite just by stepping through the door.
When my friend arrived, I told him I was going to return with my wife, Mary Alice, just so she could see how welcome someone could feel. My friend, Tom, nodded toward the maître d’ and said, “He owns the place.”
As ushers, we too are part owners of the church, able to greet people, convince them they came to the right place, where we’re happy to have them. We’re really serving as maîtres d’ as we pass out the bulletin, the menu of what they are going to get.
I’ll not go so far as to say that we should stand at the door and ask if they were satisfied with the meal; yet we are there, called to a ministry of using our gift of greeting.
FRED SMITH1Mr. Smith is a businessman in Dallas, Texas, and a contributing editor of Leadership.
