The other day I had to go buy makeup.
For me.
For my face.
I’ve already cut up my man card and distributed pieces to my close friends who mocked me.
Apparently, when you go on television you have to wear makeup, which is a little weird, but I get it. The lights are bright, you look all shiny and crazy if you don’t have a good foundation from MAC that will even out your skin tone. (See that? I’m already talking the lingo. Scary.)
The really weird part is that you have to apply it yourself.
When I go to a television studio, I’m in charge of my own makeup. I have to put on the foundation and the bronzer. I am not good at this. Even buying it felt like a challenge. My wife was busy so I took a list my friend Meg had prepared stood, in the makeup aisle of Target, and finally asked a stranger, “Can you tell me which of these products is bronzer and which one looks like my face?”
Good times. On the Friday before the first television appearance I’ve ever done, before heading out to buy makeup, I went to get a haircut. As I’ve confessed approximately 1 million times, I wrestle with anxiety and fear. So as I waited for my haircut, I could feel myself tensing about being on TV for the first time. “What do I know about being on TV. Oh geez, what have I got myself into? What if I swear during the middle of the interview or throw up? What if the guy who is on before me is a dog trainer and one of his dogs bites me during the middle of my segment, thus making me swear and throw up?”
When they called my name to get a haircut, I approached the front desk. An exhausted looking girl said, “Sheryl isn’t here today. Who do you want to cut your hair?” I said, “Who is awesome?”
She responded, “Uh, I am. I’ll cut your hair.”
Teasing her about her hesitation, I said, “You feeling awesome today? You seem tired.”
“I stayed up until 6AM this morning.” She said.
I thought about that for a second and told her, “You sure you feel good about having scissors around my head right now?”
She smiled and I sat down in the chair. A big part of the reason I go to Great Clips is that it’s a great, random chance to talk about God. I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say Great Clips is a mission field for me, but it is a one on one conversation for 30 minutes and I always try to make the most of it.
I’m not good at witnessing though. When people tell me, “I helped lead 12 people to the Lord this summer at the beach,” I feel intimidated. I feel woefully unqualified to witness. And it always seemed complicated to me, like maybe I was going to take the wrong off ramp on the Romans Road. But I learned a small secret about talking about God a few years ago. Here it is:
Just ask questions.
Sometimes we’re so eager to force an agenda on someone or “Facebook Friend Suggest Jesus,” that we don’t take the time to listen. To ask questions, which is just what I did when I got my haircut.
I was at the crossroads. Barbara the tired stylist told me she was up until 6AM. One path was judgment. “I bet she was out clubbing all night.” Another path was ego. “Did I tell you yet I was going to be on TV this Monday?” Another path was disinterest. I could have sat there in silence, grabbed a quick haircut and been on my way. But instead, I asked her a simple question, “Why were you up so late?” Here is what she told me:
“My aunt has ovarian cancer and is having surgery in a few days. You know those times when you stay up late at night crying your hardest for five hours until your eyes are swollen the next day? That’s what I was doing.”
I asked, “Do you guys have a good support network of family in Tennessee?”
She answered, “My mom is here, but my dad left me when I was three. When I was a teenager he texted me out of the blue after years of silence and told me I was a ‘worthless piece of #[email protected]!’ I graduated from high school early because I got such good grades and decided to get married. My father refused to walk me down the aisle and instead lied that he was in the hospital. That was the last I heard from him. He’s abandoned me and his 15 other children.”
I few minutes later, I asked, “How long have you been married?”
She answered, “I was married for five years but he became physically abusive after he started taking steroids.”
A few minutes after that I asked, “Do you like cutting hair?”
She answered, “I just want to get to Florida. I just want to get away and have something good happen for once. My mom and I are trying to move to Florida and get a fresh start. I just want to escape and open up my own shop there. I have to get away from Tennessee.”
All in all, we probably talked for 20 minutes. I came in that day thinking I was busy or important or a million other “me, me, me” focused things. But all of that changed the second I asked her a question.
Sometimes we think going overseas is the only way to be a missionary. Sometimes we overlook the people we’re surrounded by all day. Sometimes we’re afraid to witness to people or share our faith because we’re think we’ll do it wrong. But sometimes, the girl cutting your hair isn’t tired because she partied all night.
Sometimes the stranger you meet has a story to share, if, you’ll take the time to ask a question.
