There is a volunteer here at our church, we'll call him Norman. Everybody has a Norman. He's the guy that knows a little something about everything and wants to tell you everything he knows in every conversation. He's nice enough, but he talks, and talks, and talks... and talks. Norman is that guy in your office that you try not to make eye contact with when you walk by because to do so means you are committed to at least 20 minutes of mind-numbing conversation on how a building is wired, or how a computer works, or what kind of carpet cleaner works best. He's the guy you have to plan your route back to your desk around, so you will be sure not to run into him. And even there you're not safe because he walks into your office unannounced at the most inopportune times imaginable just to shoot the breeze about whatever happens to be on his mind that day.
It's easy to get smug about Norman. You know what I mean. To write him off. To caricature him and label him and set him aside in your brain as an annoyance that must be tolerated. We can do that to people without even thinking about it sometimes. If we never take the time to pay attention to what's going on in their lives they can easily become a cartoon character or sitcom stereotype that drifts in and out of our lives like Kramer in a Seinfeld episode. Norman pops in, interrupts our deeper thoughts, makes some bizarre pronouncement about a random subject, and fades off behind the scenes while we look into the camera, shaking our heads and rolling our eyes in comic disparagement.
So when Norman showed up at our staff prayer time this morning with a prayer request, no one took him very seriously. He began to describe, in that annoyingly painstakingly detailed way he has, of an encounter he and his wife had on the bus the other night. You see, he made some bad decisions and ended up without a job, without a car, and so now he and his wife have to take public transportation everywhere. He'll be the first to admit that he is lying in a bed of his own making. But sometimes we have a tendency to think that lets us off the hook somehow. "Well, he wouldn't be in that situation if he hadn't done this or that, so I don't feel sorry for him one bit."
Anyway, his story rambles on, filled with all the unnecessary details and sidebars we've come to expect from Norman. You can sense the room growing impatient. The gist of his story is that they struck up a conversation with a woman on the bus, and she began to share her story with them. She was part of a church where the pastor wasn't a very godly man and they only seemed interested in money. She was very interested in our church as Norman and his wife began to describe it to her. He told her all about how they really feed you with the word of God, and care about people, and love their city. The lady told Norman, "I want what you have!" So he pulled out a card and invited her to attend worship service this weekend. Norman's simple prayer was that she would come and find a church that would love her and encourage her. It took a long time to tell it, but that was it in a nutshell.
The prayer requests came more quickly after that, much to our relief; a sick relative, a new baby, a friend who lost her job. I watched Norman carefully after that and noticed some things. When an elder staff member came in late and there were no seats left, Norman immediately jumped up and offered his chair. No one else moved a muscle to offer him a seat. Norman stood off to the side while others shared their prayer requests. When it came time to pray, Norman had no chair so he got down on his knees on the floor. It was as though the Holy Spirit was saying to me, "Do you see what I see? Are you looking at Norman the way I do?"
Here we were, staff members. Paid, professional Christians. Church leaders with important things to do. Yet Norman was the only one who shared a story of engaging a total stranger and listening to them, inviting them to church. I thought about what it takes to get a stranger to open up to you like that. You have to be friendly, warm, compassionate, a good listener. Norman was the only one to stand and offer his seat to an older staff member, showing honor and respect and kindness in exactly the way God tells us to in scripture. And when it came time to come into the presence of a holy God in prayer, Norman was the only one on his knees.
I felt ashamed at how I had thought of him before, as the comic relief in my own self-centered story. I voiced a prayer for the lady on the bus and thanked God for Norman and his willingness to listen to her and invite her to church. For being the kind of Jesus follower that this woman, who had every reason to be discouraged and disgusted with Christianity, would look at him and say, "I want what you have!"
So later that morning, when Norman walked into my office, plopped down in a chair and began talking at length about whatever he was thinking about that day, I listened. I offered my insight. I asked questions about what God was doing in his life. And I encouraged him. I told him, "Norman, I was watching you at prayer this morning and I noticed something about you." I told him all the things I noticed and said, "I just wanted you to know that I can see God working in your life. You have really grown."
The writer of Hebrews says this: "And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works..." (Heb. 10:24) To consider something implies that we slow down and carefully think it through. We watch, we observe, we process. We can't label and categorize and file each other away, all in a moment based on some perceived character flaw or annoying habit. If we do we might miss what God is doing in unlikely places. That's where the richest treasures are most often found.
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