‘Hello. What’s Your Name?’

Reconciled to the reality that I’m an introvert who out of necessity learned to become far more outgoing than is my natural inclination, I greatly admire the “people person.” This is someone who has no problem being the life of the party, the individual that strikes up a conversation with anyone.

One of those is my friend, Gary Highfield. As he and I would meet to collaborate on his book, When ‘Want To’ Becomes ‘Have To,’ I’d watch with amazement as he would easily interact with people he’d never met. He’d approach total strangers, whether to chat or ask them to serve as an instant “focus group” for an idea he was considering for his book.

Ease with people was one of the qualities that enabled him to become a top salesman for a national cellphone company. Gary’s book – about rising above a disadvantaged childhood – is enabling him to reach out to young people in circumstances much like he experienced. His goal is to instill in them hope for a brighter future.

Recently Gary mentioned a question he often uses to connect with people, whether a business person, a parent wrangling with a child, a student, or even a homeless person sitting on a curb. The question: “Hello. What’s your name?”

This question, he explained, is as profound as it is simple. “In high school, there are basically three kinds of kids: There are those who are known because of their achievements. Then there are those who are known because of the trouble they get into. And there’s a third group, those who are quiet, inconspicuous, the ones hardly anyone knows. They are virtually invisible.”

Then Gary added, “That last one’s the worst group to be in – and that’s where the most students are.” He understands this well, not only because of the students he encounters almost every day, but also because years ago, he was among them.

Think about it. The classic sitcom “Cheers” was set in a bar “where everyone knows your name.” As a friend of mine used to say, “The sweetest sound to anyone is the sound of their own name.” I’ll never forget how I felt the first time an article bearing my name was published in The Lantern, Ohio State’s student newspaper.

Getting back to the question, “What’s your name?” The gruffest among us might be inclined to respond, “Why do you want to know?” But imagine being in that third group of students – quiet, inconspicuous, basically ignored. Wouldn’t it be amazing to have someone walk up and actually be interested in knowing who you are?

How about the down-and-out individual perched on a downtown doorstep, the sort many of us typically ignore for fear of being asked for a handout. How would this person react if we stopped, looked directly into his or her eyes and said, “Hello. What’s your name?”

In the gospels, we see Jesus modeling this all the time: The woman with the incurable bleeding problem in Matthew 9 and Mark 5. The man in John 9 who had been born blind. The helpless paralyzed man lying on a mat, also described in Matthew 9.

My favorite is the so-called “woman at the well,” a Samaritan woman who came to get water at midday because other women despised her as an outcast. So she chose to fetch her water when no one else was around. In this account from John 4, we don’t know if Jesus inquired about her name, but what He said was just as startling. He asked, “Will you give Me a drink?” which was unheard of, since Jews didn’t associate with Samaritans and by custom, men didn’t speak with women they didn’t know.

She responded, “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” Jesus proceeded to reveal He actually knew the woman very well, describing her troubled circumstances and then offering her hope.

Jesus told the woman, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (John 4:13).

We don’t know whether their conversation was recorded in its entirety, but do know what Jesus said to this woman – along with the simple act of acknowledging her existence, rescuing her from anonymity – transformed her life.

It’s amazing what just a few well-chosen, caring words can do. As I noted earlier, taking the initiative to interact with someone I don’t know goes beyond my comfort zone. But perhaps the Lord wants us to understand that comfort zones are vastly overrated.

After reaching out to a succession of “nobodies,” showing love they probably had not experienced in years, if ever, Jesus “saw the crowds (and) had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (Matthew 9:36). Then He declared, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.”

Maybe we each could enlist to become part of that workforce, even if all we do is walk up to a stranger – in a restaurant, a school, an office, or on the street – look at them and say, “Hello. What’s your name?”

Learning to Look for ‘Invisible People’

Strolling through the local mall the other day, I realized we’re surrounded by what we could call “invisible people.”

Not people that are literally invisible. (Although that does remind me of the story about the Invisible Man, who on his wedding day made his bride mad because he didn’t show up.) No, I’m referring to people we pass by regularly, without giving them a moment’s consideration.

As I passed a security guard, I heard him engaged in conversation with a woman at one of the Christmas charity booths. I’d seen this fellow before, but hadn’t thought of him in a real-person sort of way. He’s not a snappy dresser, and doesn’t carry himself in a way that would command attention, so although I’d noticed him, I hadn’t really looked at him or wondered, “I wonder who he is? I wonder what his life is like? What are his hopes and dreams?”

I overheard him say something about God, but didn’t want to eavesdrop. It simply struck me that this fellow I’d never met had some opinion of the divine – even though I hadn’t heard enough to know where on the theological spectrum his views would fall.

This got me thinking about other “invisible people” there – custodial staff; people working at gaudy kiosks; the little old man sitting at the bench in the corner, looking like he had nothing to do and nowhere to go; weary kids wanting Mom or Dad to take them home.

Frankly, it’s easy for me to ignore people like this. Even though I’ve sometimes been described as “relational,” I’m really not an outgoing, “people person.” I’ve never been accused of being the life of the party – at such gatherings, unless I connect with someone, I’m inclined to become “invisible” myself. Reaching out to others takes effort for me.

But that’s still no excuse for looking past people whose lives are just as important as our own.

Recently a friend recounted being approached in the parking lot at another mall by a man of a different ethnic background. In broken English the man asked where a particular department store was located. Suspecting this might be a prelude to ask for a handout, my friend was reluctant to engage in conversation. When the man stated his car had broken down, my friend felt sure a plea for cash was next.

Finally he pointed the man across the vast parking lot and briefly watched him begin the trek to the store, a long walk on a very cold, windy day. Suddenly conscience – or conviction – seized my friend and, despite reservations, he pursued the man and offered him a ride to the store.

What began as a threat to my friend’s comfort zone, or even fear for his safety, suddenly transformed into friendly conversation. The man needing directions, it turned out, was the pastor of a small church serving a minority community in a city nearby. This “invisible person” was a fellow follower of Jesus.

One of our greatest human tendencies is to gravitate toward people “like us,” and exclude all others from our field of view. But consider the example of Jesus: He was always looking for the unlikely person – the Samaritan woman; Zacchaeus, the little guy climbing a tree to see Him; the crippled man whose friends took a risk and lowered him through a roof; smelly fishermen; a woman accused of adultery; a despised tax collector.

Maybe that’s an example we should strive to follow, especially this Christmas season.

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others” (Philippians 2:3,4).