Photoshop sometimes hates me, but when I put my fingers to the keyboard, I can’t stop until I have a finished product.  Because of this, I try to finish any blogging before my office-mate arrives so that I don’t come off as some kind of cold, conversation-hating buffoon.  Sadly, I rarely finish all my thoughts in a quick manner, so I’m typically furiously typing away when Jess arrives at 9:00 AM.

It’s pretty funny though, how sometimes being long-winded is really good and sometimes it’s not.  At small group, for example, sometimes I can talk and talk and talk, and other times, I can listen and listen and listen.  Each can be good depending on the topic and the temperament of the group on that particular day.

Sometimes being short is good.  When I first started to really get involved with Common Ground (around Easter 2004), I would meet with Kevin and other small group leaders at the Einstein Bagels near the mall every single Saturday at 8:00 AM (you read that right, 8:00 AM on a Saturday…I thought it was a sin, too, but apparently it’s not).  Back then, we only had a couple small groups, so the meetings were pretty intimate, and often we would discuss church-overall and upcoming events rather than the details of our small groups.  On any given Saturday, it was me, Kevin, Fong, and a dude named Stephen Christopher (a double first-namer…that’s a special distinction in my mind).  We would debate ideas and talk about church.  This is where I started to really develop my love of the organizational and “behind-the-scenes” decision making that goes into the day-to-day operation of a church.

Let me get to the point that I’ve been marking a circuitous path around.  I remember that during the first or second small group leaders meeting at Einstein’s, Kevin threw out a challenge to us leaders that would encourage us to be brave and bold, and when necessary, brief, when sharing Jesus with people.  The point was that we live in a world where everything is fast, from food to cars to movies to sloths (okay, maybe not sloths); and because we live in this high-paced world, we’re not always given an opportunity to sit down and discuss life with all the people we may run into.  This doesn’t mean that God is going to provide fewer opportunities to share His love with the people around us.  It just means that the people around us may not provide us with the amount of time our predecessors had to share Christ with the people around them.  

So, practically, Matt, how do I deal with this?  Well, as they say in the Boy Scouts (maybe Cub Scouts, I don’t remember), “Be Prepared.”  This is where Kevin’s challenge came in.  Know your testimony because it is unique to you and it is relevant to someone, maybe everyone, no matter what path led you to Jesus.  Second, be able to share the key aspects of your personal testimony in as short as two minutes.  This should include where you were, how you met Jesus, where that has brought you, and how God is moving in your life now.  Kevin challenged me to be able to do this without sounding like the guy at the end of car commercials rattling off the conditions of a sales pitch at 100 words a minute.

I pass along this challenge.  Not because I think you should rattle off your testimony in two minutes or less, but because sometimes you may have to.  Don’t let the opportunity to share God’s love pass you by just because someone doesn’t appear to have the time.

This has been a long-winded blog about a short subject.

-Matt M.

Maybe it was the perfect October weather. Maybe it was the color of the fall leaves. Maybe it was the saturday band practice.

Whatever it was, Sunday morning had a buzz to it. Everyone was fired up. People were fervently discussing life in the hallway before we started and the conversations spilled into the afternoon.

We deviated from our normal service to take a break and listen to what God is doing in some of our lives. It was awesome.

Jon Shores even wrote and played a song:

Just a quick update about last night. We again had 9 volunteers from Common Ground to watch kids at the Thurman Brisban Center while parents attend group meetings. Unlike last time where there were about 15 kids (5 of whom were screaming for 90 minutes for mommy), there were 2.

We did however determine that Sean is still the Jenga master and loved on 2 kids and their parents without shoving a bible study in their face.

Thanks to Julia, John B, Sean, Margo, Julie, Madison, Cathy, and Caleb for your willingness to give up your evening for other people.

Kevin and I sang a, er, well, very strange song last week…

Got the following email from Jess Glass this morning, welcome to CG Ariella, you’re gonna like it here…

Ariella was born by C section at 11:54 PM on October 9th. She was 7lbs, 1 oz and 20 inches long. I haven’t seen her, but I know she’s beautiful. We can only hope she has a head full of beautiful black hair like Becky!

I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything about visiting or the family’s plans at this point. Thanks for all your prayers!

Also, Becky’s email account has been a little inundated, so if you want to help with meals, could you email me at cubanjess@gmail.com. (I got Mike D. and Margo.) I don’t know yet when they’ll be going home, but you’ll know as soon as I do!

Love,
Jess Glass

It’s 32 degrees outside, freezing, and it’s still dark on a Monday morning. She’s sitting in her running car trying to calm the nerves that have her hands shaking and her pores beginning to sweat beneath her black sweater. She’s wondering if she’s crazy. She’s been up for hours already, and she’s been sitting in her Toyota Corolla for the last twenty minutes with the engine running and nothing but the motor’s hum and her nervous breath for company. Maybe she is crazy.

It’s 32 degrees outside, freezing, and it’s still dark on a Monday morning. His gloves are slightly wet and smelling like rot. His jacket barely keeps in the heat that exerting himself has created in his chest. He’s crazy, he’s sure of it. He’s been awake since 3:30 AM. Six years ago, that would have been more along the lines of a bed time than a time to set an alarm clock for.

Her hands are clammy from the nerves and her breath is coming a little shallow. She has no idea how he’s going to react; if he’s going to react; if he’s going to just flat out reject her. Though, she can’t imagine why anyone would reject her for this. Nonetheless, she’s finding her heartbeat tap tap tapping on her windpipe as she opens the door with one last deep breath of the car’s warm air and the almost overwhelming smell of fresh baking.

His hands are sore, cut, cold, and rough from picking up every body else’s messes. Sometimes he has another guy with him to help with the lifting, but that is usually only during the holiday season, when mountains of gift packaging and empty bicycle boxes line the streets. Today, he’s by himself and over and over again, he repeats that there are only ten more blocks to go. He’s gritting his teeth as he tosses another empty trash can back to the curb when he notices a woman approaching him from the left. She’s flushed and focused, staring right at him, and she’s moving with the determination that lets him know that he’s got to get ready to defend himself. Ladies moving toward him with that kind of determination have something to complain about.

As she approaches, she starts to have second thoughts. She’s concious of herself asking out loud, “What am I doing?” She doesn’t answer and just keeps moving. She tells herself not to flinch as he assumes an annoyed stance; arms crossed, legs shoulder-width apart, and a cross between a grimace and a bemused smile on his face. In a rush, she pushes the plate toward him and like water at Niagra Falls, her words spill out, “Imadetheseforyou.”

“What?” He asks as she shoves something at him. Her words came out so fast, it takes a few seconds for him to decide she was actually speaking English. He looks down at her visibly shaking arms extended with a paper plate of cellophane cookies. He knows the shaking isn’t from the weight of the plate or even the cold, though he can tell by her hunched stance that the cold is starting to touch her. He relaxes a bit, so as not to frighten her further.

Taking a deep breath, she says, “I made you these cookies this morning. I just thought you’d like them on this cold day. I appreciate all the hard work you do.”

He’s considering pinching himself to see if he’s awake, but he decides that if he is in fact dreaming, he should just run with it, so he says, “Thank you so much. Usually when well dressed ladies come running up to me, it’s to tell me about how pissed they are about how I treat their precious trash cans.”

She smiles and says, “Well. I think you treat my trash cans fine. Have a great day, and enjoy.” Without another word, she turns around, gets in her car and slips the transmission into reverse. When she gets to work, she tries to remember all the details of the mornings events, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins tries to induce amnesia.

He smiles and says, “Thank you.” He watches her drive away before grabbing a cookie off the plate, shoving the entire thing into his mouth (thanking God that the cookies weren’t hot enough to burn him), and putting the plate on the passenger seat of the big truck. He turns his attention to the next set of trash cans and continues his day, laughing. He can’t wait to tell his wife what happened today.

—–

This is a dramatization of a true story I heard at the men’s retreat. This is such a great example of someone showing someone else some love and respect for no reason but that ALL PEOPLE need it, and we should love ALL PEOPLE. Vince, the speaker at the men’s retreat, referred to the girl in this story as a “Guerilla Lover.” They come out of nowhere, do what is right, and change the world by starting a revolution of love. It works. Will they know who we are by our love? I don’t always know. Will they know who we are by our judgements of them? I hope not. God, I hope not.

Jesus was revolutionary. He came here to DIE, so that we may know life. He came here with a message of hope and love. He turned the world upside down.

So, why don’t we do this? Why aren’t we out there performing crazy acts of love? Why not? Why aren’t be being “Guerilla Lovers?”

1 Cor. 4 (The message, verses 9-13): It seems to me that God has put us who bear his Message on stage in a theater in which no one wants to buy a ticket. We’re something everyone stands around and stares at, like an accident in the street. We’re the Messiah’s misfits. You might be sure of yourselves, but we live in the midst of frailties and uncertainties. You might be well-thought-of by others, but we’re mostly kicked around. Much of the time we don’t have enough to eat, we wear patched and threadbare clothes, we get doors slammed in our faces, and we pick up odd jobs anywhere we can to eke out a living. When they call us names, we say, “God bless you.” When they spread rumors about us, we put in a good word for them. We’re treated like garbage, potato peelings from the culture’s kitchen. And it’s not getting any better.) Why aren’t we (I) a misfit for Christ/a fool for Him?

God has people do crazy stuff (Ezekiel 4 for one of hundreds of examples from the word and from real life). Let’s get crazy and be misfits for God’s glory.

Welcome!