Meaningful engagement with random strangers

I popped into Tesco on a Sunday afternoon a couple of weeks ago to pick up a few bits and pieces, and I had a pleasant, but ultimately unfulfilled experience. I was strolling along with my little trolley, taking my sweet time, stocking up with fruit and veg, and balancing it out with a healthy helping of cheese and wine. Nothing too unusual about that. But there I was, strolling along in my own little world, thinking about the price of tomatoes, when I spotted this other shopper. A male shopper. A handsome male shopper. A handsome male shopper without a wedding band. No trolley; he was carrying a basket. Hmmm. Shopping for one. Interesting.

I continued on my way, taking even more time over my selections, and smiling to myself about the daftness of checking out male shoppers in Tesco. We passed each other in front of the yoghurts, and made eye contact. Ok, I thought, that was cool. Maybe if we could get from eye contact to a smile, I might actually have the guts to say hello without feeling like a complete idiot. We passed each other again in the ‘world food’ aisle (that concept amuses me, it basically means Mexican in a box), and in the cereal aisle (seems he was a Crunchy Nut Flakes kinda guy). We didn’t manage the briefest of smiles until the bread section. It was fleeting, we both managed to look a little awkward, and we stumbled off in different directions, looking engrossed in the bread we were buying. Incidently, we both went for granary, so we were guaranteed to have at least one thing in common. My last shot of him was as I was walking out of Tesco, leaving him behind scanning his groceries, probably trying to figure out who the weird stalker girl was.

My sister went on a date once with a guy she met in a supermarket. But then, her friend had rugby tackled her into a display of Lipton teabags, and that provided a vague context for discussion. Maybe if my sister had been with me, I could have asked her to throw a tomato at me or something – but then that seems a little extreme for the average shopper, and a positive outcome is not guaranteed. There were a few things that stopped me from having the courage to actually say hello to the handsome male shopper. I don’t really like looking like an idiot. Sometimes that can’t be avoided, but when I’m in the position to do something to prevent it, I like to try. I like to have at least a little bit of control over how other people might perceive me, and one of the easiest ways to do that is to not do stupid things. Trying to strike up a conversation with an entire stranger, based solely on the fact that he looked nice, had a basket instead of a trolley, and liked the same bread as me, seemed like a little bit of a stretch, and possibly verging on stupid. What on earth would I have said, anyway? ‘Lovely day for shopping?’. ‘I see you like granary bread – have you tried the wholemeal?’. ‘Excuse me, I’m thinking of buying Mexcian in a box – would you like to share it with me?’. No. That wasn’t going to work. I’d ask a stupid question, handsome guy would stare blankly at me, and then we’d stand there awkwardly before he’d eventually wander off, and I’d dash to the Ben & Jerry’s section. Better to stay quiet. I had a school teacher who used to say “Better to be silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt”. Better to let an opportunity pass me by, than to grab it and end up looking like an idiot. Right?

I wonder how many meaningful opportunities/moments/relationships I’ve missed out on because social etiquette requires me to be sensible, pragmatic, quiet, realistic, non-intrusive. I’d like more meaningful interaction with total strangers. I’d like to feel confident enough to say hello to someone who attracts my attention, and strike up a conversation, without worrying about perception, about being socially inappropriate, about looking stupid. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not shy and retiring. I don’t walk around hanging my head, scared to look people in the eye and never knowing what to say. I’m a confident individual. I think I’m fairly good at making conversation – I like to chat, and I like getting to know new people. But maybe only in a certain setting. Meeting people at a party/work/church/generic social gathering is easy. We’re all there for the same purpose, so there is instant common ground to start with. But then I run the risk of living life in a bubble, and only ever meeting my friends’ friends. I’d like to keep my horizons a little broader than that.

I know a lot of single Christian people. I’m a single Christian. I’d like to meet someone, be in a relationship, marry and have a family some day. At the very least, it would relieve the guilt I feel for my poor mother, who is most despondent at the current lack of grandchildren in her life. But I do have a theory on why single Christians find it so hard to meet other single Christian people. Faith is important. Crucial – core to who we are. We want to meet someone who shares that faith – someone who ‘gets it’, and understands what we are all about. Starting a conversation with handsome guy in Tesco is great, but what if he doesn’t share my faith? I’ll look even sillier than I already did. So I avoid the interaction and pass up on the opportunities. Realistically, catching someone’s eye across the prayer meeting is going to be a much firmer guarantee of shared faith that if it happens across the frozen food section at the supermarket. Right?

I do the same thing with mission. I’m not the kind of person to approach random strangers and start sharing my faith. Some people are, and that’s wonderful, and more power to them. But it’s just not me. I’ve tried it before – I’m really not good at it. It’s just not the same for me when I haven’t engaged with the person – haven’t connected with them. But then I run that awful risk of being stuck in a catch 22 situation, when I only meet my friends’ friends, and we all end up living in a comfortable Christian bubble, but constantly frustrated at our inability to engage meaningfully with strangers.

We’ve been talking a lot lately about being a missional community in Redeemer. I would suggest that the value of a missional community is in direct proportion to its level of meaningful engagement with strangers. For me, and possibly for a lot of other people, that’s going to mean grabbing opportunities when they come along, in spite of the risk of looking like a fool – not to hit people with our Bibles, but just to strike up conversation, get to know new people. I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea. But then I don’t think missional community is about comfort. It’s about something much bigger than that. Jesus wasn’t ever restrained by social etiquette. He just did what was on his heart – he just walked right up to complete strangers and engaged with them, healed them, comforted them, encouraged them, ate with them, conversed, hung out, spent time – with complete, random strangers. They didn’t stay strangers for long, because he welcomed them into community with Him, and with the Father. Let’s do that. At the very least, that kind of approach might help me next time to say hello to the handsome guy in Tesco, and could potentially make my mother a very happy woman. But at the very best it will develop relationships, friendships, interaction, engagement, community, church, Kingdom.

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