Good afternoon church family,
Why is small talk so much easier to make than big talk? I don’t know exactly but it’s probably for much the same reasons that we find sharing an elevator with someone to be easier than sharing an apartment or why giving money to the needy to be easier than giving them your cell phone number. One requires little to no sacrifice, has zero strings attached, and won’t burden your heart and mind. The other, however, may require large draws on your time, comfort, and treasure; expose you to any number of binding commitments and can cause much heartache and disquiet. I’m afraid we often make small talk for fear that big talk will make too much work for ourselves.
A hail storm passed through Rochester on Monday. A bunch of low-lying, malevolent clouds, likely coming off a rager the night before, moved into the area and dumped out their ice chests over us. This, of course, gave us all something to talk about with each other in those awkward moments when silence is impolite or just too uncomfortable to endure. Like when the TV is turned off in the tiny waiting room at the oil change place and it’s just you and one other person sitting on sad pleather chairs, staring aimlessly at the filthy Keurig sitting on the end table beside the bathroom. Or during those times when your neighbor happens to be working in the yard or watering the garden at the same time you happen to be; or when you’re sitting up in the cab of the wrecker with the guy who’s driving you and your dead car to the garage; or when the hair stylist throws the cape over you at the salon and starts teasing out your do with a comb. I mean, we can only stare aimlessly at our shoelaces, the wall, or our little screens for so long. Eventually, we have to say something and what safer topic could we possibly find for conversation than a little hailstorm?
“Nothing like seeing a little white stuff in the summer, huh?”
“Yeah. Wild.”
“My sister lives up on Chesley Hill – says she lost half her tomatoes.”
“You don’t say. That’s a shame. I was lucky – my wife happened to take the new Silverado to work with her that day – can you imagine getting that thing all pitted?”
“No kidding. Where’s she work?”
“Over in Wells. She said it didn’t do anything over there.”
“Weird weather for sure this summer but it’s awful nice today.”
“Sure is. Sure is.”
Voila! Just like that, you’ve successfully navigated a New England interaction while fulfilling your base obligation to the societal contract we’ve all agreed to live by. You were winsome, neighborly, and confident – even building a little rapport to boot. Good for you! After the exchange, everyone feels more comfortable and a little better about himself. There was some more awkward silence before it was all over but the parting was friendly enough with an “Alright now – we’ll see you later” or a “You have a good one” accompanied by a nod and a wave. Cue Louis Armstrong and the strings – what a wonderful world, indeed!
But it’s not a wonderful world and every one of us who believes in Jesus Christ and His gospel knows it. Norman Rockwell isn’t getting anyone to Heaven. We are charged by our Savior Himself to step boldly into these awkward moments and make lots of uncomfortable big talk with the lost and dying of this world.
I don’t like it when people try and get somebody to commit to something by convincing him that it won’t cost him anything. “What do you think about running for Vice President of the Association?” someone might say. “It’s super easy – you hardly even have to show up most of the time.” Or how about, “We really need someone to work the polls down at the middle school this fall – what do you think? It’s a piece of cake.” Or, “We need one more chaperone for the senior class trip to Montreal this spring. You should tag along – it takes nothing. It’s like a free vacation!” Of course, any of us not born yesterday know that these sorts of appeals come booby-trapped with all sorts of sacrifices, frustrations, and hard work and that we accept any such invitation at our own risk. But the real reason I don’t like it when this type of offer is made to me is that it assumes that all I’m interested in are opportunities that honor or enrich me at little to no personal cost. But that’s not true. In fact, I think most of us are longing to give of ourselves in support of some significant project or important undertaking. Blood, sweat, and tears shed for a good cause is no sacrifice at all. As Isaiah said, “The noble man devises noble plans; and on noble plans he stands.” (32:8)
Now, what greater or more noble cause could we pledge our lives to than rescuing people from eternal damnation in the fires of Hell? None. And this rescue effort won’t require us to run into any burning buildings or parachute into enemy territory or dive into swollen rivers made raging by flood rains. No – this rescue will require us stepping courageously into conversation.
Starting conversations about sin and death with family, friends, co-workers, and acquaintances is not an easy, low-hurdle affair. If you’re not immediately shut down and shown the quills, you’ll likely enter into a weighty and sometimes difficult discussion. In the context of a talk about God, people often bring up their life’s tragedies and unhealed hurts. The inexplicable agonies, inconsistencies, and complexities of life are dumped in our laps and left for us to piece together and make sense of. We’ll be asked impossible questions, told of awful abuses, and invited to wade into very muddy waters. Biblical consistency, compassion, and patience will be required of us and we will need to be willing to build relationships of sincerity and depth. For those of us who are saved; who have already been rescued and are now secure in our inheritance in Canaan, what better end could there possibly be for whatever breath we have left?
One Saturday, long ago, while I was pastoring in Georgia, I drove across town to visit with Don Tunnell. Don was a tall, slender, ten-years-retired older gentleman in the church. He hailed from War, West Virginia but had lived most of his adult life there in Augusta. Even though he was in his seventies, he still had a full head of wavy, black hair and his big belt buckle sat flat on his trim waist. Don had a sweet, Jimmy Stewart-like manner and an earnest Henry Fonda-like constitution. He was the closest thing to a cowboy that I’d ever seen. If he’d ambled into some saloon I was in and announced that he was looking for some hands to help him drive ten-thousand head of cattle across the Red River to Missouri, I think I would have dropped whatever I was doing to join him. But anyway, while I was sitting with him in his living room that Saturday, looking around at a room that hadn’t been remodeled since the seventies; his wife Mary puttering in the kitchen, Don told me something I’ve never forgotten. Glancing over at his television set, he said, “You know, Pastor, it’s the funniest thing. When I was a young man, all I wanted to do after a long, hard week at work was to sit back on a Saturday and watch college football. But back then I hardly ever got to. Saturday would come and the yard would need mowing, some faucet would be leaking, or the kids had this thing or that for me to carry them to. There was always something and I’d be grumpy and resentful as all get out. And now, Saturday after Saturday comes and even though I’m free as a bird, I never even turn on the durn thing. I’d give anything to be back with a houseful and a million burdens on my back.”
What are all the things we keep ourselves in isolation for? What is all our small talk preserving for us? A little more time with our TV? Empty evenings inside our moated castles with the drawbridge up? Taking our meals alone with only YouTube keeping us company? That’s not the life God is calling us to. That’s not what we’re going to look back on with joy as the light of our setting sun fades to black. What will make our hearts full when we’re full of years, are those conversations that led someone to life without end.
We’re looking forward to gathering into the Lord’s house in the morning to worship our Creator, King, and Counselor and to enjoy communion with Him through the shed blood of Jesus our Savior. It’s a joy and blessing that no depth finder could ever get to the bottom of! Come prepared to give and receive of the good things the Lord has made available to us all. May the Lord, mighty God, bless and continue to keep us!
- Pastor Tate
