Guys know about this. Others experience it too, and they can tell it from their perspective. But here's the story that someone related that brought back memories for me....
It's a Junior High dance, in the gym. The girls stood on one side of the room and the boys on the other. Every once in awhile somebody would bravely venture across this massive chasm to ask someone to dance, and then everybody would watch them. It's not pretty...
The story continues, "I remember walking up to a girl, whose name I can recall with clarity 24 years later, and asking her if she would like to dance with me. Those of you who have walked this road know the determination and the fortitude it takes to leave the boys' side, walk across the wide area of empty floor to the girls' side, all eyes on you, and make your request. It takes all that a young man has in him not to buckle under the enormity of the pressure. But I did it. I made it to the other side and asked her if she would like to dance with me."
"Her response? She burst into tears and ran into the girls' bathroom where she spent the rest of the evening..."
I don't remember that exactly. But I know where I would have been. I was back with the crowd, along the wall. And I imagine all of us, in unison, looking something like this... (hand over eyes, mouth drawn taught)...you know, the way would look if you had seen a train wreck. All out of embarrassment for our classmate. And we would have been more convinced than ever that the best thing was to hold that spot. The whole things would be over in an hour.
But here's the thought that would make the difference. The one who asks gives the other the option of saying "yes" or "no." And in this case, if she had said "yes" all sorts of new possibilities would open up. First would be getting to dance with her. And that might be followed by another dance. And then maybe a phone call or passing a note. Or, there's always the possibility of being turned down.
"When you make a move toward a person, when you extend yourself to them, when you initiate conversation, you give them power: power to say yes or no. This is true of junior high dance, to invitations to coffee, to the most important mutual decisions of our lives where the decision involves another person in relationship - and that's most. There's always the possibility of a "no" wherever there is the hope of a "yes." (Partly from Sex God by Rob Bell, p. 88ff.)
And that's the way this passage struck me. It's so simple, so straight forward. We are commissioned by Jesus to do these things that are very straight forward...be welcoming, honor prophets, and remember that even a cup of cold water offered is a ministry. But behind it, underneath it, there's always this risk. What if the good you try to do goes unappreciated? What if the hospitality you offer is not well received? What if the cup of water is refused? It can always happen. The risk is always present whenever you offer.
The hand can express both options. The hand that is extended in greeting to another is also the hand that can be shaped into a fist. The arms that can be folded across the chest in an attitude of distance or suspicion are also the arms that can draw another close in an embrace. It's always a choice. And it's always a risk. Anyone involved in relationship knows this.
In Dublin, in St. Patrick's Cathedral, there is, in the entry-way, in the narthex of the Church just after you enter what appears to be an old barn door off to the side. It's set up in a display with a light shining on it, meant to draw attention to it, although it looks like a knotty, old piece of lumber. Only there is one hole that is large and prominent and in the center of the door - obviously not just a knot poked out of the wood.
The information plaque next to the door reads this way: "In 1492, in the year that Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Two great families, the Ormands and the Kildaire's were feuding. The Earl of Ormand, Sir James Butler and his followers took refuge in the cathedral. The Earl of Kildaire, Gerald Fitzgerald laid siege. The Earl of Kildaire recognized his foolishness that lead two families worshiping the same God in the same Church to try to kill each other. So he called out to the Earl of Ormand that he should no longer receive any villany at his hand. The Earl of Ormand was not convinced. So the Earl of Kildaire took his spear and cut a hole in the chapel house door, and thrust his hand through. It was grasped by Ormand inside the cathedral. The door was opened and both men embraced. This was the origin of the expression chancing one's arm...chancing one's arm." (Rev. Terry Foland, an Alban Institute Consultant, in an unpublished sermon)
I wonder how long that moment lasted....the Earl of Kildaire's arm extended through the door, not knowing if he would lose it or gain the peace. But what a moment, full of great risk but also full of great possibility!
And perhaps its one of the challenges that being a superpower presents....that it seems safer, easier, better to live behind the apparent protection of that power rather than risking other forms of relationship in the world. For in fact it takes far less courage to fight than to love, far less courage to wage war than to make peace, far less courage to live at a distance from neighborhoods that have challenges than to be drawn together in a relationship of mutual concern.
In this age of terrorism when we've put so much effort into reducing the risk, maybe we've forgotten that nothing truly valuable is ever gained without risk.
Finally, think of this... An all-powerful God who made the earth and all that's in it, an all-powerful God who held back the sea for the people to walk from slavery to freedom, an all-powerful God who came to show us love in the most vulnerable way possible - who came in human form as one of us. It's God reaching out, opening up, offering God's own self....not just once upon a time, long ago, but continuously, today, even now...refusing to let go of the possibilities in spite of the risk.
Maybe this is what it means to live as people of faith...
God of power, God of love you've shown us the way of reconciliation and peace. You've given us not just a command, but you've shown us what it means to love our neighbor as ourself. So give us the courage that we need that the way of grace might be opened...and that we might be instruments of love - the means through which it comes. Amen.
Children: Gas can. How much is it worth? Something more valuable that's free...God's love.