One of the things I love about my church is the genuine warmth and friendliness that emanates from the congregation. Despite all my reservations, that warmth is what kept me coming back. From our very first visit, we were always made to feel like we belonged.
Our church’s theme for the month of August was Hospitality. I thought I was taking it to heart until a few Sundays ago, when my pastor challenged each of us to step outside our comfort zone and talk to people we don’t know. He wasn’t talking about the world at large in some general or theoretical sense. He was talking about other people right there in that church on that particular Sunday.
It made me a little uncomfortable.
If I’m being totally honest, it made me want to run out the door.
It was just too real, too immediate, too scary.
Approach people I don’t know? Um thanks but no thanks. I’d much rather just hide here behind the comfort and safety of my computer screen where I can be virtually friendly.
This will probably surprise anyone who has met me in person–I think hope I hide it well–but I am actually very introverted. I put myself out there because I have to, even when inside I am often so filled with anxiety that I can hardly stand it. I don’t ever want to let my fear hold me back, but I literally count the minutes until I can escape.
The Great Hospitality Challenge, as I started to think of it, hung in the back of my mind all last week, hovering over me like a storm cloud. I wanted to shout at my imaginary cloud, “I AM hospitable! I AM friendly. I DO talk to people. At least, in my own way, from the security of my Comfort Zone. Why doesn’t that count?”
I entered church a week later hoping for clarity, and almost the minute the sermon began, the message was crystal clear:
Live love all the time, because time is short.
We can’t wait until we are comfortable, or until it is convenient. This moment is all we have. That person sitting behind me, the one I was too introverted to talk to, may never come back, and that would be a tragedy.
As I’ve thought about it since, I keep coming back to an experience I had at my first blogging conference last January. There was so much I wanted to learn, but at the same time I was completely overwhelmed. I was terrified by the thought of having to introduce myself to 600 complete strangers, not to mention more than a little intimidated to be in the presence of all these amazing women I had read and admired for so long.
Only a few minutes after registering, I bumped into my real-life Blogging Hero. This girl was the one who had inspired me to start my own blog, the one person on the planet–or at least the conference–I really wanted to meet. I was completely star struck, but I at least managed to say, “you’re so-and-so! I LOVE your blog!” She asked my name and my blog name, and then she said, without so much as a hint of a smile, “Oh. I know you who you are.” The coldness was palpable and the message was clear.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so small. I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear, and in fact, I did have to leave for a few minutes and go compose myself. I was ready to pack my bags and go home.
But God works in mysterious ways, and about an hour later I ran into dear, sweet, wonderful Edie of Life{in}Grace, another bloggy role model. The second I introduced myself, she embraced me like an old friend, then proceeded to write down her cell number so I could call her if I didn’t want to attend the events alone.
I was so touched by her kindness, by the fact that she would reach out to me despite everything she had just been through in her own life, (read her story here), that I was almost overcome with emotion. That one small act of hospitality gave me the strength to stay.
Although I didn’t realize it then, Edie showed me the epitome of what I think my pastor was trying to get across, and of what we should all strive for. Her warmth and kindness came from looking outside herself, from being others-focused instead of self-focused. She truly lives love, each and every day.
I don’t know what the future brings. Today could be my last day. It begs the question:
Am I brave? Am I brave enough to live love all the time, even when I don’t want to?
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{By the way, the church I attend is First United Methodist. If you’re ever in the neighborhood, come check it out, and if you happen to see me there, please say hi. I promise I’ll be nice.}
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