You Had Me at , "Hello."

The one thing that my husband defaults to in church outreach is old fashioned door-to-door evangelism. It's an annoying hold-over from the 70's and 80's that, for him, is still effective. But in the beginning, it was just the two of us; we had started the church by knocking doors on Sunday mornings. One lady opened the door and I smiled and before I could say a word, she yelled, “No!” and slammed the door. It was so dehumanizing that I walked back to the car in a huff and told my hubby, “It’s not for me.”

Then nearly a decade later, after a few years studying as a bible teacher had given me more confidence, I gave it another try. Again, it was a Sunday. My husband had started another outreach where he covered our church sign with a banner announcing we had gone out into the community to serve others.

This time an older woman opened the door and I smiled and she smiled back. I told her that I was a minister’s wife and that a few of us had come to help out in the neighborhood. Behind me, a group of children were busy sweeping leaves off her walk. I handed her a bag of oranges and she was so taken off guard that she let me talk for a bit. I had a Bible in my hand, but mostly I just chatted for a bit, telling her a story of how I had come to know God. My story interested her, so I was feeling relaxed and confident. I asked her what she believed about God. There were so many things she believed that it was difficult to connect the dots. She didn’t know any foundational truths and the longer she talked the more I realized that she had skirted the whole gospel message trading it for a lot of philosophical beliefs. I told her that I was not a know-it-all but that I’d be glad to discuss any questions she had about God or faith. She asked me one question after another. So far so good; I actually knew where to find each answer in the Bible. I was thumbing backward and forward when she stopped me and said, “Excuse me. But if I don’t believe the Bible, what good does it do for you to read from it? You had me when you were telling me your stories.” I laughed, mostly at myself for thinking she'd be impressed with my biblical knowledge. Then I returned to what she had requested. I told her a story that showed how God had been with me even when I thought he had abandoned me. By that time our group was leaving. She seemed sad that I had to leave. But I had enjoyed getting to know a woman who, up until that Sunday, had been a stranger to me.

What I learned that day was that the distance between one person and God is not wrapped up only in what they believe. Yes, the distance between her and God was huge because she couldn’t accept the basic truths of God’s Word. But the distance was swallowed up when I crossed her walk, got some kids sweeping her walk, and handed her a gift of love and friendship.

Last week I said that I would discuss the things that put distance between us and God. In the beginning it’s usually something as small as one person reaching out to another in friendship to help them cross the chasm of disbelief. When that happens, suddenly it doesn’t matter any more what they don’t believe. What matters is that they opened up their heart to ours so that the Holy Spirit could begin the gentle work of wooing that person closer to God’s heart.

Witness

The term witness is used by the apostles to talk about the disciples that witnessed Jesus’ acts, his teachings, his execution, and then his resurrection. Before Christ died, the term crops up in the Bible under false witness, when lies were told about him. In the Book of Acts, Peter led the apostles to select a replacement for Judas, a guy named Matthias who had been around with them all and knew Christ, witnessing his resurrection. It was important, Peter thought, that God’s first road crew testify about having seen the Lord and witnessed the fact that there was no doubt that he really was God’s Son. It was like a massive whisper campaign that, over time, suffered change under the imperfect messengers.

When I first said yes to living for Jesus, the term witness meant that you needed to go out and “witness” to your friends. The word was not a noun but a verb, a bit of Christianese spread over the salvation message; to a new believer, though, an intimidating obligation. Classes sprang up teaching Christians how to “witness” (rather than “be a witness”).
But it was such a filter for me. A leader says to me, “You need to ‘witness’ to the lost, to the unsaved, as if faith requires an initiation and an awkwardly harnessed new initiate.

The apostles were such a super-charged bunch. They were the original twelve, the eyewitness gang of the birth of redemption. They performed acts of faith, (thusly named the Book of Acts) sharing what they had with others, telling how they lived before Christ changed them, raising people from the dead, laying hands on the sick to see God heal them, and telling their stories to others.

But how do I succeed like the early church believers in sharing faith without hooks and device? It all boils down to the relationships they sought. They went out of their way to meet people that were different from them, the tattooed and pierced folks, the drinkers, the loose women and perverse men, the banker and the CEO. They started by crossing the threshold of the next door neighbor and then progressed to more distant boundaries. Then they engaged others in what was considered a new philosophy, listening even if they didn’t agree. They started using terms like “brother” and “sister” because that is how they felt about the people they were meeting, people who were once strangers, divided by differences, and now brought together by a shared love of Jesus. It was like finding new family members all resonating the same inward call. While the Book of Acts is story in a hurry, we have to remember that for the apostles to start calling people brother and sister meant that a relationship had formed. And that took time.

Being a witness is a noun. It is a state of being, the butterfly out of the cocoon. A natural birth. Love is the verb. We start with something like food and a get-together so that neighbors start trusting us and seeing us as something besides that woman that gets up at a ridiculous hour on Sundays hauling a twenty-pound Bible out to her car. It’s not me lording my will and words over another, but a shared mutuality. We arrange play dates with our kids, bowling nights, or that insane game called Bunco. We laugh together and when tragedy strikes, share tears and support. Then they begin to see us as a human that is touching them in meaningful ways. And we start to really, really, really love them. We invite them to come to our small group to meet new friends and they think about it because a relationship has formed. They’re a little suspicious perhaps, but they’ve seen so much else through a filter. It could be that it’s going to take time for them to trust a person of faith and to know that you’re not trying to sell them something. Without a canned speech or a heavy-handed close, we’ve been a witness of God’s relational power in our lives that has taught us our need for others.

A Friend Through All Seasons

If you have a friend who is suffering the sorrow of loss through the holidays, you might be feeling a little outside the loop, not knowing what to do or say. That is a normal response, but a better response is that of being a proactive friend during the season that changes all seasons. Today's blog post, the third posting on this theme, is for you. If you don't have a friend experiencing sorrow through the holidays, chances are you will eventually. So printing off these thoughts and saving them for later may serve as a lifeline of comfort sooner or later. Feel free to post questions or ideas that have worked for you or if feel a little wobbly about helping your friend during his/her sacred season of loss. Here goes:

If Your Friend is Recovering From Loss:
• If your friend is grieving through the holidays, she probably won’t tell you what she needs because she is most likely in shock. It’s best to make specific appointments to drop by to clean up her kitchen or bathroom. Even if you tell her to call you if she needs anything, be assured that she won’t call and won’t ask. She's too numb and may assume you’re saying that to be polite.

• Remember that children often don’t know how to express loss. Asking them to draw a picture of their loved one or writing a letter will help them to begin to cope with the loss and to elicit happy memories of their loved one.

• Gender affects how people grieve. Men may tamp down worse than women—the bleaker pain resurfaces when tamped down. Husbands and wives or mothers and fathers should offer a generous amount of grace for those who grieve differently from them or seem to be taking longer to get through the stages of grief.

• Kindly refrain from telling a grieving person that they need closure. There’s no closure until we’re reunited with our loved ones in the afterlife. Instead of using meaningless “happy affirmations” or clichés, simply weep with them without commentary or being a “Job’s Friend.” Sharing tears is a sacred rite of true friendship. Knowing when to fall quiet and listen is a gift.

• If your friend is grieving through the holidays, a phone call or a note in the mail trumps a million Christmas gifts. But one day out of the blue, I received an unexpected express shipped package. In it was a container of Mac eye makeup. A friend had sent it along with a very sweet note and a Winans worship CD. She had taken me once for a Mac make-over and it was her way of remembering the afternoon we had shared. Gestures of love don’t have to cost a lot. It’s the time you take to do them that will mean the most to your friend.

• My dear writer friend Lawana Blackwell asked me Jessi’s birthday at the funeral. It was an odd question at the time. But she wrote it down. She calls me every year on Jessi’s birthday to check on me. Remembering an anniversary date—the birthday, the date of loss, marriage anniversary—is another sacred day you can do something meaningful for your friend.

I'm indebted to my friends who thought that what they were offering me wasn't enough, but it was exactly what I needed or what Randy needed. We live in a world of excess, so the simplicity of small gestures is lost in the noise. God's extravagant love is poured through us and out onto others like perfectly aged wine. A glass of it is all you need.

The Friend Who Got Away

My former thesis advisor, Elissa Schappell, along with some other writer friends wrote and compiled a short story collection entitled The Friend Who Got Away. Since this week’s topic discusses conflict, it’s a worthy way to end the week.

I remember the first summer my best friend moved away. I was about nine years of age. It still hurts to remember it. We were bosom friends, the kind that share a mutuality that is rare in our culture. Mutuality is when I share my deepest secrets and it is reciprocated. It’s a friendship that deepens over time through trust. The day she pulled out of our neighborhood with her single mom headed for greener pastures, she was excited about a new place to live since our neighborhood was not the best place to grow up. As she excitedly climbed into her mother’s car, I was broken hearted.

But an even more painful parting is when friends remain in the same area, but drift apart. Typically the parting will be blamed on a single incident, but truly it usually starts much further back. It could be that the friendship was birthed out of loneliness and then over time the friends begin to realize that they have little in common except their earlier need for one another. Or a friend might see in you something they need and use you to get that thing and, once they have it, lose interest in you. If a person is carrying around a lot of baggage, they may habitually seek out people to lighten their load; but no one person can “fix” them, so they become disappointed and abandon a friend in search of one who “meets their needs”. When a friendship is carried on only because of one person’s need for your comfort or support, and it isn’t reciprocated, it’s doomed for failure. If you’re the only person doing all of the work, something is wrong.

Fellowship is defined as companionship, of people journeying through life with mutual interests and causes. When that mission changes for one person, there is often a split. At first, the heart is in denial. Quick coffee dates may be arranged or a night out at the movies, but something has changed. You may tell yourself your friend is going through a season and she needs your support. But as you speak, she is not engaged, not in the moment with you. When you share a struggle, she is looking around to see who else she can engage—you’re no longer the flavor of the month.

Finding deeper meaningful friendships can be improved by seeking out friends with your similar pursuits. Start with the things you value and think about what you do in your spare time. To what pursuits are you devoted? What is your depth of understanding of God and how does it compare to your friend’s? Do you seek God’s presence and surround yourself with others who also do?

If a friendship is based on surface interests, be it the pursuit of the material, corporate ladder climbing, or the American god of team sports, that is not the definition of fellowship. Fellowship involves communing with one another, dreaming together, and encouraging one another through healthy mutuality. If your communion is not being reciprocated, it could be that you are settling for a surface friendship that in the long run may bring you no satisfaction. Healthy satisfaction in a friendship should lighten your load rather than weigh you down.

Have a great weekend full of friends who lighten your load and are thrilled to see you coming!

Friendship with God

“In all places and at all times, we can have that familiar friendship, we can have Him with us;
and there may be through the day a constant interchange of private words, of little offerings,
too small to have any name attached to them—by which the bonds of that familiar friendship
grow closer and more real, until it comes to that special personal intimacy, which we call sanctity.”
Janet Erskine Stuart, 1857-1914

When I was a girl, about age seven, I prayed to God from a berry patch under my mother’s clothesline. I felt so awkward talking to the air and hoping for something back. I told myself how silly I was to talk to nothing. But there was enough faith attached to it, I imagined, to ring a bell in eternity. When I think about that moment, my heart nearly bursts open knowing that even in my clumsy state of reaching out to God that He heard me and reached back. If I had understood the brevity of God’s timeline, I would have probably exercised more patience. I imagine now that just about the time I looked up at him from my mother’s strawberry patch that he looked down on me and then I was sixteen, and then twenty, and thirty and all along he was slowly taking me into his confidence, a relationship that eventually translated into an intimacy between us, and now friendship.

It’s not easy to explain the intimacy you feel with God to someone who hasn’t experienced Him. I know that intellectuals and others demand a clear and tangible explanation before embracing a belief. I understand pragmatism and truth and clarity and specificity because I need those things to create intelligent thought on paper. But even imagining how I might explain God’s presence to one of the teeming thousands who visit my blog, words fail me.

I don’t mean to sound mystical. I’m not even trying to rouse an argument. But the fact in my life is that if I don’t walk every second in this intimacy I now know as God’s presence, I flounder. Does that make me a weakling, or am I just being honest about my need for God? If I learn to lean on another human for support, don’t the two of us make a stronger cord, a better team? That’s how it is when I lean on God. He supports me in a way that is beyond words. God doesn’t stumble and he doesn’t miss anything. Not a falling bird feather or a girl sitting in a berry patch beneath a clothesline.