Costly Connections

As I settled into my seat on a plane the other day, the flight attendants performed their usual safety demonstration prior to takeoff. If this were my first time to fly, their warnings would have sounded alarming: "Please note the location of the exit rows. In the event of an emergency . . ." But my fellow travelers paid little attention.

"If the cabin pressure should change . . ." Bored-looking passengers fiddled with their briefcases and laptop computers.

"Oxygen masks will drop from the panel above . . ." Newspapers rustled as readers scanned the sports and business pages.

"If there is a loss of electrical power . . ." Yawn—time for a nap.

"Your seat cushion may be used as a floatation device . . ." Where is that crossword puzzle, anyway?

There was a remarkable disconnection between the seriousness of the warnings and the audience's complete lack of concern. What would the passengers say if pressed to explain their disinterest? "We've heard all this before." "Why waste time listening? Nothing is going to happen anyway." "We understand this little routine is necessary, but it's not exactly the highlight of our trip!"

I felt a bit sorry for the flight attendant making the announcement. After all, she probably has recited the same memorized spiel hundreds of times. And nobody gives her any encouraging feedback (a smile, an affirming nod, or later upon disembarking a handshake accompanied by "Nice job—I really appreciated your message today!").

Other communicators face similar challenges. How many tour guides say basically the same words to never-ending crowds day after day? How many teachers try in vain to engage their students in discussion of vital issues? How many spouses, parents, and children feel like they're talking to a brick wall at home?

Sometimes preachers don't connect, either. What could be more exasperating than to spend hours prayerfully preparing a message with eternal significance, only to stand before bored, distracted, critical congregants on Sunday morning? But the sword cuts both ways. How frustrating for church members hungry for God's Word to endure a dull, poorly prepared discourse devoid of biblical substance delivered from the pulpit!

We need to do better. There's something depersonalizing—even dehumanizing—about speaking without listening, chatting without communicating, associating without befriending, rubbing shoulders without linking hearts. People today are information stuffed and love starved. Unwilling to pay the price of personal connectedness, we pay the bigger price of loneliness. Behind closed doors in comfortable homes, neighbors live in uncomfortable anonymity. In factories and office buildings, coworkers pass each other daily in the hall and exchange casual "hellos," then return to their assembly line or cubicle numbed by a vague feeling of detachment.

Jesus said, "I have called you friends." Then he laid down his life for his friends in the greatest-ever demonstration of love (John 15:13–15). He calls us to invest in the costly connections of love as well: Pay attention. Take time. Take risks. Reach out. Open up. Confess. Forgive. Be vulnerable. It can be a bumpy ride to reach that level of relationship, but the journey is worthwhile.

Fasten your seat belts.