I'm writing this on my son's machine because ours is still under the patient ministrations of Clair at StarTek. He says he can get it to work and if not, he'll shoot it. That I'd rather do myself.
We had Windows 2000 installed on the old beast to give it a new lease on life and somewhere something went wrong and it got stuck in a loop. It would run through all of the startup routines and get to the point where you could see the windows at the end of the tunnel. Then it would start over again. It was maddening. You'd get so close, then... nothing. Back to where you started.
We've been going to a church for about a year now that we really love. Great teaching, very cool people. A very warm and welcoming congregation of people who love God. So this Sunday, we started a new teaching series built around Bill Hybels' new book, Just Walk Across the Room, which I highly recommend. It's all about taking the small steps toward people who we don't know. Taking time to introduce ourselves, to talk, to share some small part of ourselves as a way of opening the door to genuine relationships through which the Holy Spirit can work.
There is an excellent minute and a half video that sets out a visual parable to make the point: a group of 20 somethings at a party. A guy walks in alone who clearly knows no one there. He sits on one of a row of chairs on one side of the room away from the socializing crowd. Eventually, one guy breaks away from his small group, walks over and shakes the hand of the newcomer. Very simple, very clear. This is what we are called to.
So on Sunday evening, we were in the building to pick up our kids from their gathering. It was helium night and Doug had brought a tank and some balloons and everybody was hanging out in the lobby. A crowd of about 25 people, kids and parents, using up the last of the helium and getting some balloons to take home. Laughing and making silly voices and, occasionally, falling down. (You gotta watch that stuff. Sneaks up on you.)
Anyway, a woman came in (I assume to get her kids.) (That's foreshadowing, by the way.) and she sat down on a bench on one side of the lobby. We were all spread out on the other side. I don't know her name. I'd never seen her on Sunday morning. I wondered whether she knew anyone there, or if she was new to the place. I noticed that no one was sitting with her or talking to her and she was staying on her bench. Waiting.
Next I noticed, she was gone.
I didn't walk across the room. I felt really guilty about that. Good guilty, though. Maybe guilty enough not to do it again. Maybe guilty enough that, next Sunday morning when we see that video again, it will snap something in me that needs to be snapped. Something that kept me from booting up properly last Sunday night. Maybe I'll break out of my loop.
r
We had Windows 2000 installed on the old beast to give it a new lease on life and somewhere something went wrong and it got stuck in a loop. It would run through all of the startup routines and get to the point where you could see the windows at the end of the tunnel. Then it would start over again. It was maddening. You'd get so close, then... nothing. Back to where you started.
We've been going to a church for about a year now that we really love. Great teaching, very cool people. A very warm and welcoming congregation of people who love God. So this Sunday, we started a new teaching series built around Bill Hybels' new book, Just Walk Across the Room, which I highly recommend. It's all about taking the small steps toward people who we don't know. Taking time to introduce ourselves, to talk, to share some small part of ourselves as a way of opening the door to genuine relationships through which the Holy Spirit can work.
There is an excellent minute and a half video that sets out a visual parable to make the point: a group of 20 somethings at a party. A guy walks in alone who clearly knows no one there. He sits on one of a row of chairs on one side of the room away from the socializing crowd. Eventually, one guy breaks away from his small group, walks over and shakes the hand of the newcomer. Very simple, very clear. This is what we are called to.
So on Sunday evening, we were in the building to pick up our kids from their gathering. It was helium night and Doug had brought a tank and some balloons and everybody was hanging out in the lobby. A crowd of about 25 people, kids and parents, using up the last of the helium and getting some balloons to take home. Laughing and making silly voices and, occasionally, falling down. (You gotta watch that stuff. Sneaks up on you.)
Anyway, a woman came in (I assume to get her kids.) (That's foreshadowing, by the way.) and she sat down on a bench on one side of the lobby. We were all spread out on the other side. I don't know her name. I'd never seen her on Sunday morning. I wondered whether she knew anyone there, or if she was new to the place. I noticed that no one was sitting with her or talking to her and she was staying on her bench. Waiting.
Next I noticed, she was gone.
I didn't walk across the room. I felt really guilty about that. Good guilty, though. Maybe guilty enough not to do it again. Maybe guilty enough that, next Sunday morning when we see that video again, it will snap something in me that needs to be snapped. Something that kept me from booting up properly last Sunday night. Maybe I'll break out of my loop.
r