It was already dark last night, when I walked into Panera for our debate meeting. The little stylish restaurant was pretty, but something about its atmosphere was repressive. As I walked in, I observed a few groups of people sitting at tables. No one but a young Muslim couple seemed to be having any meaningful conversation. Eventually, I found Sarah in a far corner booth with a large yellow mug of coffee and a table covered with legal pad notes. As I sat down with her and my bagels, I sensed a change in my perceived atmosphere. Suddenly, I was sitting in a cute artisan room with a joyful sense surrounding the table. I had somebody who genuinely was interested in spending time with me.
To most people, this probably wouldn't have seemed like anything important at all. And maybe it wasn't. But it was a reminder to me of what an incredibly lonely society we have. Panera was only one example. I remember one week this past semester, when I was standing in line at a coffee shop, and a friendly middle-aged man in front of me started up a conversation.
"You're not from Kansas, are you?" he asked, after a minute.
"Well...... I guess not, I was born in Colorado. Why?"
"You actually responded when I asked how you were doing, and then you wanted to know how I was. Kansas people, they just look at you and keep walking."
Maybe we can't always see it, but people are lonely. They're desperate to see that somebody cares about them. Maybe we can't make an impact that will last a lifetime on a cashier as we check out. But are we willing to show them we care about them anyway? Even just showing a genuine interest in how they're doing can go deeper than we could imagine; you have no idea how lonely they might be feeling that particular day.
So often, as Christians, I feel like we just want to go after the big things that we can do for God. We want to be seen; we want to make an eternal impact. And I think we should want to make a lasting mark for His glory. But are we unwilling to do the little things? No one is going to notice and applaud you for being kind and showing friendliness to strangers you encounter. Are you willing to go out of your comfort zone a little ways to do what only He sees?
And think about even in our home school, Christian circles. There is a lot of loneliness that maybe we can't even see. People love shallow conversations because they're so easy. And there's nothing wrong with laughing about lighter subjects. But how many are willing to take steps past that? Would you open yourself up to a meaningful topic? It can feel strange; it's not something our world has taught us to become used to. Earlier this semester, I was with a small group of friends, and we were talking about random things and laughing. Partway into the conversation, one of them wanted to share a verse they'd found that morning in their devotional time. Now... I'm a person who loves deep conversations, and I was passionate about the topic that the verse mentioned. But even for me, it was a little uncomfortable at first. I know it can be hard. But, if you try it, I think you'll see that it's worth it. After the ice was broken with that verse, we started to have a lot of edifying conversations. We still had fun most of the time. But the deeper conversations we had made the laughing and lighter topics even more enjoyable, because they weren't just cover-ups, to avoid meaningful topics.
I know there are some people in NCFCA who really don't seem like they want to talk about meaningful subjects... but you'd be surprised by how much depth they actually have. That doesn't mean you always have to be looking for opportunities to bring in Bible verses into every conversation. There is nothing wrong with lighter conversation. But when you have the chance, are you brave enough to move past that? Are you available for meaningful conversation? Do people know that?
Our world is filled with empty chairs and empty tables. In Les Miserables, Marius Pontmercy sings those famous lines as a cry of agony for his friends who were lost in battle. He once had trusted companions, who had his back. After the fight, only he was left, in a room of empty chairs and empty tables. Today, we are living in a world of empty chairs and empty tables. The irony is, though, there are people sitting in those chairs and eating at those tables. We're not like Marius, who had friends and is crying over the places where they once stood. The chairs are empty, because the people sitting there are empty. The relationships are empty. I think one of the loneliest, emptiest places in the whole world is sometimes in a crowd of people. They look at you, but they don't care enough see you.
Are we willing to be like Jesus was? Are we willing to reach out to the strangers.... the beggars, the blind, the tax collectors, the Samaritans, the ordinary ones that everyone is used to looking at, but no one truly sees with kindness? Are we willing to open ourselves up to meaningful conversations, even if we risk looking different?
This is my challenge for you this week: start one intentional, meaningful conversation with someone. It can be in any setting; groups, individuals, or even an online chat or email. You don't have to talk about end times theology; it can be as simple as genuinely opening yourself up to see how they're doing, beyond just a normal greeting, or asking how you can pray for them. And if you're in a store or restaurant, say hi to a stranger. Talk to your cashier. Ask them how they're doing, and show them you actually care about the answer. You never know what kind of an impact it could make.
Let's start filling the empty chairs.
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