A group of us gathered in the lobby of Olive Garden this Sunday, waiting for our table. We're obvious church people: suits, heels and big, toothy grins. But I like to think we're different. Because we know how to flash a smile; but we also know how to sit in silence with someone grieving. And how to tell our story, not sparing some of the ugly moments that God has redeemed for His good work. And no one's story would make us flinch with disgust - only compassion.
We hadn't waited long when we were called to our table. We politely walked through the restaurant behind our hostess and I (as always) tried to look at every table I could, seeing who my neighbors were for the meal. I noted that the table next to us was a large party of conservative Christians. I know because there wasn't a speck of lipstick or rouge on any lady. Each of them was wearing a beautiful dress or skirt/top combo. And their hair was lovely and long. They enjoyed each others' company, especially the kids, and before long they had finished their meal and the table was bussed.
(I had been seated fully in the middle of our table. Conversations were carrying on at either end and I had the opportunity to "check out" and just watch people. A favorite past-time.)
I watched as the staff set the table up again and led a new group in to be seated. They were quite different from the previous group: metropolitan-looking, thick framed glasses and jeans, giving no indication they had been to church (at least not any traditional gathering). And, as they approached, it appeared that two of the young men had an affinity for each other that transcended friendship. I observed them long enough to be relatively sure of the relationship (though you never know, ya know.) And then, pondering ensued...
- What would the conversation had been if both groups were seated together?
- What if they had lunch hour in common as well as their table?
- What did our new neighbors think of our table?
- Would they ever feel comfortable at our church?
- Would they be comfortable sharing a meal with us - perhaps sharing their own stories - and hearing ours?
- How will we ever really know them?
- How will we know what they need from Jesus? (salvation? liberty? understanding?)
As a staff, God has been stirring each of our hearts individually for a couple of months. And now, we've come together, to talk, to pray, to weep, to dream, about new outreach efforts to our city. It's always been the heart of our church. But there is a new level, a deeper level, to which God is beckoning us. We are glad to move forward...only needing direction and tools, both of which we trust Him to bring just at the right time.
When will my wandering and suffering neighbors come to my table for dinner and understand a little more about God?
Lately, I am called to dream of a place, a table, where people can bring their deepest questions, their most obtrusive hindrances to faith, even their hatred of "Christianity". A place where fears and misconceptions can be revealed and, in time, dismissed. Room made in people's hearts for grace and true faith...
How many empty chairs are around your table?
No comments:
Post a Comment