We walked into the restaurant and picked up trays and plates, eyes on the long salad, pasta, and soup bars in front of us. I felt a tap on my arm.
"Here's a coupon; it'll save you some money." The man's wife was busily tearing off a coupon as he spoke. (Why do those things never tear off cleanly?) She handed it to him, and he to me.
Well, this was a new experience for me. "Thank you; do you do this all the time, or is it just my lucky day?"
"Yeah, we do this all the time." He lowered his voice and leaned toward me with conspiracy in his eye; "Sometimes she pulls them out of the garbage!" (I'm thinking that means the recycling bins that are common here.)
We chat a few moments going through the bars and checkout, then separate.
On the way out, we stop off at their table to drop off a Misfitchristian business card and tell them I see a blog post coming out of this. We talk a little while about churches, schools, kids and such. They don't have any magical or evangelical agenda; they aren't waiting in ambush with A Tract or A Survey or anything. They just like sharing a little blessing when they go out; "We all need to help each other," she said. (Lest you evangelical folks like me get worried, yes, they're quite willing and able to tell people about Jesus if conversations open that door.)
Somehow I think they'll shine a lot of Jesus' light while they're going along (the literal sense of the Great Commission in Matt 28:19), prepared to give every man an answer (1 Peter 3:15-16). They make God look good, and enjoy being a blessing in the marketplace. In this case, the salad bar.
Need an icebreaker with people? Try coupon-blessing them; it's as good as a pet for meeting a new friend. It's even free!
A celebration of people who are living out their God-given dreams in all sorts of unconventional ways and places. An exploration of the obstacles to life that we often encounter - some of our own making. A place for stories about people, ideas, culture, history and God.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Irresistible Revolution, part 1
“Mother Teresa always said, ‘Calcuttas are everywhere if only we have eyes to see. Find your Calcutta.’ I was ready to come home. I knew that my Calcutta was the United States, for I knew that we could not end poverty until we took a careful look at wealth. I was to battle the beast from within the belly. I learned from the lepers that leprosy is a disease of numbness. The contagion numbs the skin, and the nerves can no longer feel as the body wastes away. In fact, the way it was detected was by rubbing a feather across the skin, and if the person could not feel it, they were diagnosed with the illness. To treat it, we would dig out or dissect the scarred tissue until the person could feel again. As I left Calcutta, it occurred to me that I was returning to a land of lepers, a land of people who had forgotten how to feel, to laugh, to cry, a land haunted by numbness. Could we learn to feel again?”
I'm highly opposed to war-metaphors for the Christian life and writing in general, but here's one in particular. Carl von Clausewitz said, "Everything in war is simple, but the simplest thing is difficult...So in War, through the influence of an infinity of petty circumstances, which cannot properly be described on paper, things disappoint us, and we fall short of the mark." [1]
Yes; exactly. The struggle for sight and feeling for our Calcuttas is a war for our hearts. God woos us; Satan threatens us; petty circumstances encompass us. It's the simplest thing to find my Calcutta, and equally difficult.
Praying that you'll see your Calcutta today.
[1] On War, Book I, Chapter VII, "Friction in War," Carl von Clausewitz.
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