The Ridiculous Hour Foundation May 2021 Mobile Mission
Copyright 2021 Kat Silverglate
The first time I attended an event where the ice breaker actually melted the hesitation that holds people apart like cubes of ice in a freezer tray, the leader was anything but coddling or slow to turn up the social temperature. Instead, his voice was friendly but commanding and his approach much the same: clear, firm, directive and decisive. We were about to spend the next four hours in a spiritual formation class where we’d gain a greater understanding of gifts and how God uses them in the local church for the sake of the world. We called this leader “Colonel” because he had served more than forty years in the National Guard. This guy was the real deal. He’d overseen security when Nixon came to South Florida, escorted governors, assembled troops to maintain order during Hurricane Andrew, and oh so much more. We knew by his temperament, the good Colonel didn’t plan to waste a second of our time, or his own.
His voice boomed us all to attention. He said something like: “You each have a folder with a number on the back. That number matches a group number on the wall behind you. Find your number on the wall and stand with your groupmates in a circle around the large piece of paper on the floor. Go.” We all flipped our folders, found our numbers, looked over at the wall, and sure enough, evenly spaced on the floor in front of each number was a paper larger than a pizza box but not too much larger than a poster board. Slowly we got up and formed circles with our new groupmates. His clarity and directness made it easy for us. We ended up in sets of about ten I’d say. It’s been nearly two decades since I attended this event, but I wonder now as I fight to reconstruct this for you, if that was intentional -- intentionally similar the number of compartments in the average ice cube tray? Whatever the reason, he’d sure gotten us out of our separate individual slots and into tight circles with astounding speed.
Then our next directive came much the way the first had: concisely, clearly and without a lot of extra words: “This activity will be complete when the first group to have all ten participants place their full weight on the paper for the same ten seconds yells ‘DONE.’ Are there any questions?” We were like deer in the lights of oncoming traffic, frozen with the knowledge we couldn’t get out of the way fast enough for the coming collision. No, it was too late to run out the door, or say never mind. We were doing this, comfortable or not. Introvert or extrovert. Long time friends or mere aquaintnces. Here we go. Any questions? Can we do something less, oh I don’t know, awkward? I didn’t say it, but for an extreme extrovert like me to be thinking it… Ummmm. Finally he broke the silence with the concise directive, “Start.”
We looked at the paper and we looked at each other and laughed. “No way,” someone finally said. The chatter in the room started to rise as groups came up with various strategies on how to accomplish the goal. Eventually, someone suggested we tear the paper into ten pieces and have each person stand on their own separate square. That was brilliant. That’s it. Well, the Colonel didn’t think so. He shut that one down before we could rip. He was listening intently to our ideas. He already knew what the answer was. “You many not cut or tear or alter your paper in any way. Please continue.”
Finally, I think we just started removing our shoes and getting as close as we could on our square to see how many people did fit. One of the teens got on his dad’s back. Then the best friends hugged as tight as they could, one standing on the other’s feet. Then… well you get the idea. When most of the feet were on, we wrapped our arms around each other, pulled tight, held for balance and counted really fast. One two three for five six… When the word “done” came out, it was followed by the sound of groups releasing each other into a puddle of laughter. The ice wasn’t just broken, it was melted. And we’d only been at it for about 10 minutes.
Somewhere at the peak of the pandemic, this feeling of separateness became overwhelming for most of us. And it wasn’t just the social distancing we were doing or the masks we wore. It was all this division in the world and the fear of saying the wrong thing with the rightest of intentions. The fear of being judged. The kind of fear that can lead to a silence that can be interpreted any number of ways – especially the mis way. The misinterpreted way.
One Sunday while recording a socially distanced message, I spotted the sound guy in the corner of the room with a mask. I couldn’t make out the words until he came toward me to adjust my mic. The message melted me. It was concise and clear. “You Matter.” That was it. Two words. YOU matter. It felt personal. Directed at me. My eyes teared up, involuntarily. It touched something. Something deep.
“Where’d you get that mask Josh?”
“My friend is selling them to support suicide awareness.”
“Can you get me one?” I reached for my purse to give him some money, but he wouldn’t take it.
The day it arrived, I wore it to the grocery store. You know that feeling you get when people are staring at you? It felt like everybody was looking at me. And I mean everybody. After months of very little eye contact or connection, people were looking intently at my face. Directly at my face. Reading the mask. And then looking from those words YOU MATTER into my eyes. And then smiling. Or asking, “where did you get that?” Or nodding. Or waiving. Or gesturing in some way with their upward thumbs or their receptive eyes. I kept wearing it wherever I went because I loved watching how it affected people.
How their reaction affected me. I was desperately missing the warmth of social interaction. The eye contact. The smiles. The ability to come together in some way. Everything has been so icy for so very long. So, I started wearing it whenever I went out. When my husband was with me, he’d smile everytime it happened. “Wow, wherever you go with that thing people notice, don’t they.” Finally, it was just so ridiculously wonderful that I ordered a bunch and started giving em away.
The Colonel was good. But this! This was unbelievable. I have so many stories about the ice that was broken because of the words on this mask.
This one gives the best feeling for what’s been happening. If you want more, the podcast this month has it. We were checking in at the Holiday Inn Express for a one-night layover in Savannah. I was walking toward the desk reaching for my wallet and the desk clerk got visibly emotional as she read my mask.
“I need one of those. Where can I get that?”
I gave her the website of the guy who makes em, told her the story of what was happening as I wore this mask, went up to my room and decided I needed to order more. When I logged on to the site I had just given her, “out of stock” was written over all the products. So I went back down the elevator, made eye contact as I approached, and before I could say anything, I heard her say “out of stock!”
“I know, that’s why I came back down. If this isn’t too weird for you, I’ll send you one if you give me your address. I run a nonprofit called the ridiculous hour. I promise I’m not a weirdo. You can look me up.”
She whipped out her pen to write down her name and phone number. Just to be safe, she told me to send it to the hotel. Wise lady!
”Let me pay you,” she offered.
“Na, I’m good. I’ll send it when I get back from my trip. You matter,” I whispered as I walked back to the elevator.
As this whole thing has been unfolding, I’ve been reflecting a lot on why such a concise message might have such an extraordinary impact of people. Why those words seem to melt barriers. I know God knows the truest answer here, but here’s my best attempt at making sense of it.
When God made us, He didn’t just make us like the other matter in the universe. He didn’t say YOU ARE MATTER. He said, you matter in a unique way, to me. He made us in His image. Unlike anything else in the universe. We are made in the image of God. Gen 1:27. You are made in the image of God. You matter. You matter to God. Personally. How personally? He sent his only son to die for you. That’s pretty personal. To say You matter, personally, is a really intense statement, isn’t it? Because the question it raises in us is pretty reflexive – to who? To whom? Who do I matter to? And why? This is ice crushing. Heart of stone to heart of flesh kinda stuff. Life altering. It melts people because it is intended to undo us when the Lord calls us by name and says YOU MATTER TO ME.
So, our mission this month is simple. You’ll find a large square sticker in your mission pack. The words “You Matter” appear twice on that sticker on two long rectangles. They are like strips from a label maker. Cut them out. Both of them. The clear backing peels off even if it’s a little challenging to find the edge. I promise, it’s a sticker.
The first sticker is for YOU. You matter. You matter personally to God. Some of us know this, some don’t believe it, some struggle with it, some need a reminder, some… some… something thing having to do with you personally is the point of that first sticker. Pray about it. Ask God to reveal this truth to you. To deepen it. Explode it. Me? I put my sticker on the inside of my “You Matter” mask. Now, every time I go to put it on, I see that message facing me. It still melts me. Reminds me of His ridiculous love. Love I can’t earn. You may want to put yours somewhere else. Somewhere you can see it. Somewhere you can face it and explore it with God. The first sticker is for YOU.
The second sticker is our very best affordable idea for a simple custom “You Matter” mask. Consider placing the second sticker on the outside of a plain mask and you’re off to see what God does with it. If you are up for it, wear it around for a while. Make this your finish line mask. This whole mask thing will be over eventually. What a way to transition from all this separation to connecting with those around us. Those God puts directly in our paths. Consider writing down some of the reactions you get and sharing them with us. We’d love to hear. If you don’t want to put your sticker on a mask, consider putting it on something that faces out to others. Make it your own. One of our participants put hers on her mailbox. The postal worker can’t stop talking about it.
Now let’s go out as May presents its springy days to us and tell ourselves and others, You Matter. You matter personally to God.
