So...I'm pretty much going to give up writing (not really), because my friend, Paul Bishop, has got me beat--hands down. I hope you are inspired by Paul's account as much as I am:
[WARNING: If you appreciate Paul's sense of humor, as I do, LIQUIDS...or maybe even solids...MAY BURST THROUGH YOUR NOSTRILS FROM EXCESSIVE LAUGHTER]
On his blog, Craig shares
some inspiring stories from the cord groups he’s participated in
and how they've impacted the community outside the Church. That’s
precisely what we expect from someone like him. After all, he’s a
people connector by trade. He mingles with missionaries and pastors
and superhero practitioners of the faith on a daily basis. He’s
published multiple devotionals and maintains half a dozen church
blogs. If an organization has an ICTHUS in its logo, chances
are he’s a member. Of course he likes talking about Jesus in
public. It’s his job.
Rumor
has it his Bible is an autographed first edition.
But what about those of
us who are not on church staff and who have never been trained on how
to share our faith in secular society? What about those of us who
have too many questions of our own to become public mouthpieces for
the Church? Many of us are introverts, and we loathe the idea of
becoming Christian salespeople. Can we participate in the types of
community-facing cord groups Craig is talking about?
Don’t get me wrong, I
love me some Jesus, but I've always taken that “personal
relationship with God” thing literally – it’s personal, none
of anyone else’s business. So when Craig challenged me to
participate in a men’s bible study group at Starbucks, I had two
major concerns: 1) that I would likely screw up the first time
someone challenged me and single-handedly bring down 2,000 years of
Church tradition; and 2) that I would never be able to grow close to
a bunch of strangers in a public setting.
The following is my candid experience
joining a cord group.
Concern #1: Public Bible Study
Invites Conflict, Debate, and Rejection. Possibly Martyrdom.
Even before I joined, I
agreed with the concept of cord groups. On paper it was perfectly
reasonable to saturate the community with representatives from our
church. It made logical sense that in order to foster communication
between the Church and those we hoped to serve, we had to, you know,
actually talk to them and hang out with them. I just
felt that there were others much better suited for this sort of
thing.
Like
this guy.
I, personally, wasn't looking for a mission. I wasn't qualified! I just wanted a place to
fit in and feel comfortable, like a quiet man-cave where my fellow
Christian dudes and I could hang out, talk freely about movies and
fantasy football, then delve into feelings and all that mushy stuff
without worrying about the judgment of anyone outside the group. I
wanted insulation. Privacy. Safety.
Craig proved to be quite
persistent, eventually convincing me to give it a try. (I’m a bit
fuzzy on the details, but I’m pretty sure it involved bribery, Star
Wars swag, and sodium pentothal.) I respected what he was trying to
do, after all, and I wanted to see it succeed, even if that meant
giving the whole public-display-of-Christianity thing a try. I knew
it would challenge my undercover style of faith, so I took that
first, timid step outside my comfort zone.
And that’s when the
clouds parted, the angels began singing, and my life was transformed
forever!!!
Even
my plain coffee was miraculously changed to a venti caramel macchiato
with extra whip.
Well, no, not really. To
be honest, nothing out of the ordinary has happened at all, and maybe
that’s significant in itself. I've always been taught that the
world is out to get us Christians, to subvert our cause and eradicate
all traces of God from society. We’re sheep amongst wolves! When I
agreed to participate in a public cord group, I feared the worst:
pitchforks, torches, and probably a couple of Richard Dawkins disciples smacking me upside the head with their atheistic
manifestos.
Eh, not so much.
Week one came and went,
and not a single fistfight broke out at Starbucks. A fluke, I was
sure. The next week came, and not one person gasped aloud at the
nerve of us churchy people to conduct a bible study in public and
poured a Frappuccino over my head. I grew a bit bolder. The following
weeks came and went, and not once did I get yelled at over abortion
or gay rights, not once was I challenged to debate evolution, and not
once was I blamed for the sins of religion and the wars fought in the
name of God.
So
far, no one’s asked about this,
thankfully.
Those around us largely
just went about their business while we talked openly about Jesus. It
was an invaluable lesson for me, the demystification of the outreach
process and the community outside church walls. Turns out, our
unchurched, coffee-binging neighbors don’t seem to have as big a
problem with us as I had always assumed.
Maybe the person keeping
me from connecting with them wasn't them at all.
This allowed me to focus
more on…
Concern #2: True
Fellowship Is Impossible In a Public Setting
I have wanted to be a
part of a men’s group for years. I've tried a few, but I think
it’s fair to say that men aren't all interchangeable, despite
what the modern sitcom says about us. Sometimes relationships click;
sometimes they don’t. My fear was that, in a public setting, we’d
never get below the surface enough to find out, given that we would
be filtering almost everything we discussed through the
strainer of political correctness.
Coffee metaphors are a sure way to PERK your attention.
But that’s one of the
side benefits of a cord group. Immediately, right off the bat, you've all got something in common: you’re practicing your faith out where
anyone can see it. The shared vulnerability and risk of rejection is
a much stronger bond than, say, liking the same movies. There’s no
risk in speaking loudly of the Bears’ latest woes in the Chicago
vicinity, and therefore there’s nothing gained when someone agrees
with you. But come to an understanding on one of Jesus’ teachings
in a place where not everyone accepts His legitimacy? You've made,
ahem, grounds there. (Sorry! These puns are even starting to
grind on my nerves.)
By far, the most pleasant
surprise of my cord group is that things have gotten real. We've gone deep. Opened up, confessed, and laid bare our hearts right out
there in the open, next to the business folk on their laptops and the
patrons sipping lattes. We share victories and trials, pray for one
another’s burdens, and generally take time out of busy lives to
focus on Scripture and realign.
It was challenging at
first. I leaned in a lot when I shared something personal. I lowered
my voice when conveying something those outside the Church might not
understand or agree with. But as the weeks passed, I realized I cared
less and less about the possibility of rejection, because right
there, seated around me, were four guys who accepted me.
And who knows, maybe one
day there will be conflict. Eventually, someone may challenge us or
even disparage us. There could be raised voices and aggressive
postures and all those things that make us introverts want to dive
back into our books about theoretical evangelism. But you know what?
It sure helps knowing that I’m not alone. That there are godly men
standing there with me who share my convictions. And who would get
my back in the unlikely event that the great Jesus-Starbucks
Smackdown of 2014 comes to pass.
Pictured
above: Turning the other cheek, ninja style.
It seems my second
concern was unfounded as well. The friendships forged in this cord
group are real. Even as I write this testimony, I’m being alerted
that one of the guys is quoting Taylor Swift lyrics on Facebook and
that I must TAKE HIS MAN-CARD NOW. Christians or not, guys will be
guys.
Conclusion:
It’s with some relief
that I can say, in all honesty, my cord group is not an act. I don’t
fake bonding with the guys for an hour a week in the hopes of
proselytizing the great unchurched public through trickery. It’s
not a sales pitch for a heathen audience nor a modern day morality
play. Rather, we’re holding real, legitimate Church outside the
walls of the church. And we’re extending a hand, sans collection
plate, to those who might never step inside a stain-glassed building.
We’re freely offering honest discussion about the things that
matter to all of us. It’s an earnest conversation with the
community, in the community.
I wish I could say we've brought a particular number of new souls to the Church. I can’t. I
wish I could tell you how many patrons have overheard and taken note
of us. Again, I can’t. Sure, we've had some discussions with
those outside our group. We've tackled some tricky topics, actually, and prayed with total strangers. But I don’t have any
metrics for you. I can’t quantify the good we've done. The only
thing concrete I can share is that I, a confessed introvert with
little experience practicing my faith in public, cannot wait for my
Friday mornings at Starbucks.
And
this has almost
nothing to do with it.
I believe our cord group
is having a positive impact on the community. Just as joining the
group demystified those outside the Church to me, perhaps just being
present out in the open helps demystify the Church to them. Maybe it
helps both groups to recognize that some of those barriers between us
are imagined and can be overcome by a handshake and real, genuine
talk. (The caffeine and sugar highs surely can’t hurt!)
But even if I never have
the privilege of seeing direct benefits in the community, there’s
no doubt that my cord group is impacting me. Funny how the corner
table of a local coffee shop, surrounded by total strangers, can
start to feel like home. But then, this IS my community. It IS my
home (for now). If I don’t start representing the Church here, who
will?
And
look at me, blogging about Jesus and evangelism. What a total Craig
move! This cord group has certainly gotten my spiritual life brewing.
