Credit Card Combat

I work at a church, which means, among lots of other things, that I get paid to take people out for coffee.

Here's my favorite complicated scenario that involves. I arrive at the appointed Starbucks, Einstein Bros., Panera Bread, or Dunkin' Donuts, credit card at the ready, greet my volunteer/congregant/co-worker, and then shepherd them to the counter. I order first. This establishes the parameters: beverage, plus snack or light meal. Then, I gesture to my guest and say to the cashier, "We are together." My guest protests. I insist. We sit and break bread.

So weird.

I took my sweet volunteer Krystal out for coffee on Wednesday. She used to work at a church roughly three times the size of ours, so she knew what was coming and was fully prepared to engage in credit card combat. I won (I'm small but mighty), and we had a good laugh. We hashed out the various ways and whys the opening gambit is fraught with awkwardness.

"I have a budget for volunteer appreciation." This one is icky on lots of levels, the biggest of which is this paradox: it is very likely that my guest financially supports our church. In effect, I'm saying, "Put your wallet away. You've already paid for our little tete-a-tete."

"This time is my thank you ... to you ... for being such a wonderful you," or some variation on that theme. Although my sentiment is sincere, I worry that my colleague will think the only reason I insisted he leave work in the middle of the day is to ensure he'll keep hanging out with second grade boys at the 10:45 service, especially because no one else seems to want to. Second grade boys are like howler monkeys in every conceivable way, and the truth is, I do want my volunteer to keep showing up for the 10:45 service. But that's not why I invited him to coffee.

"I want to get to know you better, so this is my treat." My volunteers tell me, both in public and private, that they genuinely like Base Camp. The kids are a hoot, the materials make the experience easy, worship is rich, and their own spiritual journey deepens. Many say that Sunday mornings in Base Camp refresh and re-fill them in ways nothing else quite does.

Sunday mornings leave me feeling like I just hosted a party while riding a Ferris Wheel during a hurricane. Essentially, I oversee a school-ish kind of thing for nearly 200 kids and the 30-plus volunteers it takes to pull that off. Exhilarating? Yes. Refreshing? No.

The blur of curriculum bins and snacks and special needs boxes and props and security tags and new families and even the occasional time out for an Emma or a Zeke means that I don't get to lock eyes with any one person in a meaningful way on Sundays. This is why I love my coffee dates. Even for an avowed introvert, the hours sipping and listening re-energize me for the next go 'round. Yet, when I say, "I wanted to meet so I could get to know you better," I fear my guest is thinking, "Um, I have no shortage of friends or things to do today, but okay, so let's get this over with."

I asked Krystal what she used to say to her guests during the register duel. Her reply was prompt: "You have been such a blessing to our church. Now let me bless you in return."

This was sweetness incarnate coming from her. But no way can I imagine these words issuing out of my mouth with even a sliver of authenticity. I am -- gasp -- a pretty snarky, sarcastic woman. Funny. Loving. Giving. But snarky and sarcastic, too. From me, "I want to bless you" would sound like churchy cheesiness at best, and kinda creepy at worst.

The truth? Telling potential volunteers about Base Camp speeds up my pulse. Listening to the joys and struggles and heartaches and dreams of my teammates opens up a space in my chest that I never imagined existed. Bowing heads over salads with a co-worker from across the aisle? Yes.

So here's what I am going to say to Dava when I take her out for lunch on Monday: "Know how our pastors often talk about the importance of relationships? Well, they don't just talk about it. Relationships are so important to our leaders that they are buying our lunch today. Cool, huh? And the bonus is, that I get to spend time with you. So, what sounds yummy?"

I'm sure I'll booger it up. There will be plenty more awkward moments played out in front of baristas near and far. I'm okay with that. Because in some weird, magical, unfathomable way, when two people who don't know each other very well get together for an hour to walk out into the intersection of the stuff that matters to them both, there is, indeed, a blessing.