Marijuana in Church

What do a Granny, a troubled teen, a little girl and a 20-something stoner have in common? Well they, in fact, were an eclectic group that attended church every Sunday with my mother.

I giggled over the phone a few weeks back as my mother told me this story. Let me set the stage. My mother is your everyday, ordinary hard working middle class American woman. She lived alone for many years in Las Vegas where she ran the day-to-day operations at an intensely busy Radiation Oncology Center. I think my mom is amazing. Mom moved away from Las Vegas several years ago. However, it wasn’t until recently she shared this fascinating story.

So, how does she end up attending church with these strange seat mates?

She asked them.

First, the troubled teen came from a home where there was little stability. His mother married my brother. From their marriage came the little girl, Kay. This little tike has a heart as big as Montana and at the time she would spend every spare minute she could with Grandma. Finally, Robert was the lawn guy.

Robert would show up from time-to-time to mow my mom’s lawn. He wasn’t too reliable nor on top of the details but he was friendly and always kind to my mother. Mom, would stop what she was doing on a hot Saturday morning, remember it’s Las Vegas – scorching by 10 a.m. and take a pitcher of Lemonade out to Robert. They would sit on the patio and talk. Robert in his Marijuana T-shirt and mom in her capris. The young generation and the old.

They talked about all manner of topics including his guitar playing, proper pruning of her rosebushes, weather, friends and religion. My mother told me it was always an adventure to visit with this young man. Knowing he led a life on the “edge” she often turned the conversation toward relationships and faith. One day she said, “Robert, why don’t you come to church with me on Sunday?”

“Okay, I will. What time?”

Surprised he said yes she told him what time to meet her at her home.

Sunday came and in reality she expected him to be a No Show. But right on time, Robert knocked on the door. He was wearing his marijuana T-shirt but looked as though he had showered for the event. They got in the car and she headed toward my brother’s place to pick up the kids. (My brother was a bit prodigal these days).

Arriving at the house, Kay bounded from the door, hugged Grandma on the neck and jumped immediately into Robert’s lap. He sat her down, buckled her in then shuffling from the door came the teenager. He actually appeared to really want to go to church as the attitude was absent and he greeted my mom with a, “Hiay, Grandma.”

With the car loaded up. Off they went.

Now I often wonder what it looked like to some of the other church attenders as this group pulled up front and unloaded?

The Granny.

The troubled-teen.

The little girl.

And the guy with the marijuana T-shirt.

The most unlikely, mismatched, and broken bunch of people to all walk into church together. I’m sure there were a few looks of shock or impropriety. But I’ll tell you what Jesus saw.

He saw an old woman who knew the truth. The truth that Jesus saves. Somehow, these other three saw that truth in her life and wanted some of it for themselves. My completely proper mother didn’t care what people would think.

She cared enough to take people to where they talked about Jesus in the hope they would find Him there.

Jesus saw four people whom He died in order to set them free.

Who do you know that is wearing the marijuana T-shirt? What troubled teen with shaggy hair and black clothes is struggling and needs life-changing truth in his life. What little girl just wants to feel loved? Who is it that you have judged improper?

I’m not asking these questions of you. No. I’m asking them of me. Because it’s time for me to grow up and I want to be just like Granny. Won’t you be just like her too?

Be blessed, Lynn

Find me daily at

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