"Stay in the Shade!"

Drinking a shake at McDonald's in the urban core, not a common habit of mine, became a vivid reminder for me last week about our posture before those around us.

My goal was to read. I had time between appointments, which I intended to spend by catching up on a reading assignment for an upcoming conference. Successful reading for me requires either silence or a steady background of noise. Instead, I got alternating waves of the shouts and whispers commonly heard in the core - bursts of laughter, exchanges across the dining room, advice, criticism, and all manners of life lived out loud, interrupted by pockets of nothingness.

The woman at the counter trying to get the attention of the worker, whose back was turned, because she needed a tray for the drinks since she was walking home to her son and her mother. The job applicant's boyfriend jawing about when he used to work in this restaurant years ago and the people he used to know. The older couple, he in suspenders and she in a wheelchair, in loud whispers recollecting faceless names. The lady with the wide hat three tables away talking to me about the weather.

People's lives lived out loud, louder than I'm accustomed to. Details of their lives I didn't ask for, and didn't really want to know. "I don't care!" I wanted to shout. I didn't. Not really. "I. Don't. Care!!! So stop telling me, and everyone, about the details of your life that we have no business knowing."

The lady in the wide hat told me it was warm outside. Actually, it was cooler than it had been, and was quite pleasant. So I said something stupid: "Actually, it's not that bad out there today, for August." She insisted it was hot, and I kind of blew it off. I could have proved her wrong with the temperature and humidity data if I wanted to.

Here's what I missed: She had been walking all morning because her daughter failed to pick her up, and she was about to walk a couple miles at two in the afternoon to her son's job so that he could drive her home. She was right, and I was wrong - it was hot that day ... for anyone who had to walk for miles during the hottest part of the day. That yesterday was a more typical August day was irrelevant. It was easy for me to say it wasn't that hot because I had so bravely walked from my air conditioned car for the ten seconds it took to get into the air conditioned McDonald's so that I could buy myself a cold shake.

I was wrong because I didn't listen. I had the data to prove my argument, sure, but I never listened. I didn't want to because I. Didn't. Care. She had told me earlier about walking, about her life in that moment, just like everyone else in the restaurant had been doing so loudly. Unlike what I'm accustomed to, people were freely and loudly sharing their lives. And I wasn't listening or caring.

The woman told me something about her life: she had to walk because her daughter continually runs late, she has a son, he has a job (I even know which furniture store) and a car, he's kind enough to give her rides, and she had a warm walk ahead of her because she wants to get home. Her hat is wide because she regularly walks for miles in the sun. The cup tray lady has a son and a mother living in her home, which obviously is nearby enough to be within walking distance, and she was bringing them something cool to drink. Suspenders man gently cares for his wheelchair-bound wife. Job applicant boyfriend remembers his coworkers and is doing what he can so his girlfriend can find work, too. He had spent the last two years in Arizona and just came back to KC in May in order to work.

I was right on the statistics, but wrong on a person's real, daily life because I didn't listen. I was in a place where life's details are shared freely, people telling me about themselves, and I acted like I was in the quiet, "polite" place where you talk softly about coffee flavors or how good your seats were last night at the game or you don't say anything at all.

I'm not suggesting that everyone should share their lives more openly and with more volume. I am suggesting that we tune our ears off of our own frequencies and onto the frequency of those who are speaking. I could argue the effects of relative humidity (listening to her, but tuned to my frequency) or I could be part of this woman's distress (listening to her, tuned to her frequency). How hot I thought it was didn't change the walk she had ahead of her, and it sure didn't help her get home.

As if to salvage myself, I did muster a "stay in the shade" as she collected herself to leave. I had heard her, a least a little, and I entered into her experience, at least a little.

There's this great restaurant I don't want you to know about

We found the greatest Italian restaurant! We were just rambling around looking for some place we've never been before, and actually got a little turned around. But then Lynne saw something as we passed by and said we should try it. So we turned around, parked the car, went in, and gave it a try. Bar none, the best Italian food we've ever had!!! (And we're kind of picky about Italian food.)

But I don't want to tell you about it. We're not going to tell you what's on the menu, where it is, or even the name of the place. Trust us - it's awesome food. We plan on eating there regularly. The owner is very nice and welcoming. But ... we're just going to keep this information to ourselves.

You see, what if Italian cuisine offends you? Maybe you really can't stand Italian food. You were forced to eat really bad Italian food as a kid, and now just the mention of Italian food makes you mad. We wouldn't want you to be offended.

Besides, who am I to tell you where you should eat? You're a grown adult and can make your own choices. You know how to find restaurants. Just because we like this place doesn't mean you should like this place.

And what if you ask me how the pasta sauce is made, and I don't know? I know I like the sauce, but quite honestly, I can't tell you the recipe. I pretty much know how they make the pasta - I can answer those questions. But that sauce? I don't really know, and I don't want you to ask me questions I can't answer.

What if you've heard bad reviews of this restaurant? Maybe you read somewhere on the Internet about someone who ate there and thought it was awful. Or, worse - maybe you know some people who like that same restaurant, but you've seen how they behave in restaurants. Their behavior is horrible. So if they recommend this restaurant, it's probably the last place you'd want to eat, right? Who would want to eat where they eat?

Or maybe you'll find out I'm a hypocrite. Maybe you'll catch me sometime in a weak moment eating Spaghetti-O's. How could you take Italian restaurant advice from someone who eats that?

I know, I know - you've seen some of those TV chefs, and they're just after your money. Plus, there's that one politician who wants to make teachers teach Italian cooking in the public schools.

So, I'll just keep my restaurant choices to myself.

On the other hand, the food in this restaurant is the best we've ever had. Come and see. Try it for yourself. Make up your own mind. If you don't like it, we'll still be friends.

Under Pressure!

Have you ever felt pressured by others to share your faith? I'm not talking about the positive pressure of encouragement, like two teammates spurring each other on to run faster, jump higher, or hit harder. I'm talking about harsh pressure, like you're being forced to eat your vegetables, and if you don't, you're a bad person. Have you ever felt that? (And I am fully aware that there may have been times when I have unintentionally been the one to apply that pressure.)

Those negative, even guilt, feelings we have about this are compounded when we remember that we actually have something wonderful to share. Now, I feel twice as bad - not only am I not doing what I ought, but it's not like I'm withholding bad news. Good news should be easy to share, right? If I really believed this was wonderful news, then why am I such the horrible person who doesn't share it?

Why do we feel this pressure? Surprisingly, this pressure most often does not come from the encouragement to share our faith. That's not the real issue in most cases, I believe. But because we think it's the issue, then we suffer the twin devils of pressure and guilt.

The actual issue, in my opinion, is that we feel pressured to share our faith in a particular way - a way that's foreign, unnatural, mysterious, awkward, uncomfortable, manipulative, or completely contrary to our personal makeup. We (mistakenly) think, or have been (mistakenly) told, that not only should we share our faith, but that it must be done in a particular way - that sharing your faith is synonymous with a particular method. And if that way doesn't match your personality, then your personality is deficient, stubborn, or even sinful. Pressure applied, thank you very much.

The underlying error is worse: a mentality that has reduced the Gospel to something like "Three Steps to Avoid Hell." We take the fullness of the Gospel, squeeze it down into "fire insurance," and then are left with nothing but pressured-filled ways that it must be shared.

Search the Gospels - you'll never find Jesus reducing the Gospel like that. Rather, He consistently speaks of the nearness, the nature, and the accessibility of the Kingdom of God. He never reduces the Gospel to getting your ticket punched. There's far too little space in the blog to fully discuss the significance of this observation.

Instead of saying, "Share your faith in a prescribed way or else you're a bad Christian," let me offer a different kind of encouragement: Leave Kingdom fingerprints everywhere. As you live, as you work, as you play, as you have family time, leave "evidence" of the Kingdom of God. Demonstrate the nearness of the Kingdom by living as a representative in the midst of others. Bring the nature of the Kingdom into your work and activities by infusing its attributes into everything you do, attributes such as integrity, compassion, and justice. Make the accessibility of the Kingdom obvious by being authentic and transparent, and as appropriate, but letting others know how accessible it is. How can I exit every scene of the story of my life with some evidence of the Kingdom left behind?

Sharing how someone can become a member of God's Kingdom (the redux of the rich Gospel) still has a prominent place, but is now set in the larger frame of seeing our life's task as leaving Kingdom fingerprints everywhere. My "job" is to leave as much evidence as possible. That doesn't seem very pressure-filled to me.

No formula. No recipe. Just a lifestyle of leaving evidence of the Kingdom everywhere you go, from the gym to the grocery store to neighborhood association meeting. Some of the evidence is the example you give, some of the evidence is by adding Kingdom values to a situation that needs it, some of the evidence is verbal testimony. I don't want to limit your imagination on ways to do this. Acts of mercy and compassion, being there with someone in sorrow, offering truth without necessarily quoting chapter and verse, all kinds of ways to leave Kingdom fingerprints. Artists and bridge builders can leave evidence; teachers and truck drivers can leave evidence; students and retirees can leave evidence. Everywhere.

By the word "fingerprints," I don't necessarily mean something subtle, hard to detect, and insignificant. I mean evidence that can be obvious and traceable - evidence that any observer would easily trace back to the Kingdom of God, and in fact make it hard to ignore the Kingdom of God. Leave enough evidence to be convicted of being a citizen of God's Kingdom.