Wednesday Tea Time. You’re Invited.
A weekly pause for stories, tea, and the greater church we’re becoming
by Sarah Skinner, May 2025
I’d like to start a new ritual. I’d like to invite you to have a bit of tea before bedtime with me on Wednesdays.
Colloquially, inviting someone for tea in my culture can also mean inviting you to gossip. A word that must surely share a root with the word “gospel.”
Here’s a bit of gossip: there is a church that’s alive and well, living into the kin-dom—and last week, I saw it at Montreat at the Arts, Recreation, and Worship Conference (planned by Re:Create). It was a space where grief and joy intertwined, where leadership was shared, not hoarded.
I had the opportunity to share a welcome on behalf of Montreat, and the poem below was born.
Come in, the Door is Open by Sarah Skinner, May, 2025 Welcome, beloved ones. You are on holy ground. Come in as you are. You are holy ground. Come in radiant or rumpled, rested or weary, come in bearing grief, or laughter, or both. The door is open. The table is set. There is room for all of you— every story, every scar, every wonder still unfolding. Come in. Come in carrying your stories—the ones that shaped you, the ones that cracked you open into song, the ones that still burn in your chest. Come with a face that is your own. Or come with all your masks, and let us celebrate your survival. Painted or adorned only as the holy made you, come in. In your Sunday finest, or in an old sweatshirt, dress up, or come as you are— The Holy One wants you here, at the table. Come in, the door is open. Come in ready to dance, to play, to rest. Come in as one who creates, who wonders, as one who has nothing to prove and everything still unfolding. You are not late. You have not missed your turn. You do not need to start over. You are already inside the circle. You are already welcome. Here, your welcome never expires. Here, your voice is holy. Your questions are holy. Your laughter is holy. Your presence is enough. Come in, the door is open. The table is set. All of you is welcome beside the Holy One. This is not a place where we demand you fit. This is a place where we widen the circle to make room for what is real. So take a deep breath. Feel your feet on the ground. Notice the faces around you, and know that here, we are weaving something together. The Holy one is dancing with the extroverts, Whispering poetry to the wallflowers. And, for those still waiting on the outside, The Holy One waits with you, too. Still weaving sacred wonder inside of you. Not perfection. Not performance. But presence. Notice the Holy One in the hush, in the psalm, in the holy giggle of joy and say, "Come in, you are welcome." Holy Ones are already beside you. Let this week be for becoming. Let this space be for renewal. Let your breath return to you. Let joy catch you by surprise. You are already loved. You are already home. Welcome.
This poem was first shared at Montreat for the Arts, Recreation, and Worship Conference (planned by Re:Create), but it’s etched into my heart as the welcome I want to carry everywhere. Wherever you are, whatever you carry—you belong. Sleep well, beloveds.