We stayed in a fancy hotel, we rode the
subway and the Staten Island ferry just for fun, we saw Rent (be
very jealous). And we ate. We ate every quintessentially “New
York” thing that crossed our paths; massive slices of pizza, fat
bagels, cheesecake, hot pretzels, hot nuts, hot knishes, hot dogs,
and anything at all with the word “deli” in front of it.
I loved that weekend so much.
But of all the wonderful things we
experienced and of all the incredible calories we consumed, my
favorite moment happened one night when we were walking back to our hotel from Washington square; A car pulled up beside us and
asked us for directions!
Not even kidding! Isn't that cool?!
Of course we weren't able to offer any real help to those lost souls, but we were kinda thrilled that the
occupants of the car had mistaken us for actual, legitimate,
they-look-like-they-live-around-here New Yorkers!
Yes, I
can understand how one might think that being stopped for directions
under a street lamp on the corner of an iconic city isn't a very big
deal, but I
think it's pretty much the
coolest thing ever. And it's not like I have some longstanding yet
unfulfilled dream of living a sleek metropolitan life among the grit
and glitter of Manhattan (Ok, fine. I do.), but, the thing is? I have
this crazy huge aversion to looking like a tourist... I just
hate it.
I know that you know who I'm talking about. We've all seen them; goofy, overly impressed,
oddly dressed, picture snapping, map gazers, huddled in the shadow of
the empire state building. Not that there is anything inherently
wrong with looking like a complete douchepickle while you're on
vacation – I'm not saying that. I just prefer to blend in, that's
all.
I've thought about
this a lot since we moved to Costa Rica, where no matter how hard I
try not to, I will always stand out as a Gringa. Where, even though
I've never subscribed to the missionary uniform of Chacos and
rolled-up safari pants, I'm still obviously foreign. And where, even
though I refuse to wear a backpack and a floppy hat on the bus, I
still look distinctly out-of-place. The truth is, if someone figured
out that they were lost in the little town I live in, I'd be the last
person they'd look to for answers. A smart person would look for
someone who at least appeared to be at home here.
So, all of this has
got me thinking about what happens when, as Christians, we let
ourselves be so far “set apart” from the world that we end up
looking like a bunch of tourists, instead of the ones with the
answers. It got me wondering if maybe Paul knew what he was talking
about when he said, “I have become all things to all people, so that by all possible means I might save some. I do this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessing.”
All things to
all people? Man, I love that. And not despite the
gospel, but “for the sake of the gospel”.
All things to all
people so that the blessing of the gospel might be shared.
But here we are,
the Church, huddled together in awe and fear of the big, scary world,
wearing ugly-ass shoes and a stupid-ass hat, and talking like a bunch of foreigners - but we've got our fingers crossed that the people will see how we're so totally set apart, and then they'll come ask us for directions.
Hmmm....
.... ..... ....
>> Insert cheesy question to encourage conversation here. <<
