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Hello, my
name is...
by
Major
John Evans
Name tags. The thought of wearing one either makes you run and
hide, or revs up your extroverted inclination with the thought
of meeting new people. For Scott Ginsberg, it’s definitely the
latter.
For Ginsberg, nametags have become the defining symbol of his
life. From a humble furniture shop employee to author and
professional speaker, Ginsberg is now the ‘world’s foremost
authority on name tags’. In fact, he wears a nametag 24/7, 365
days a year, and has been doing so since 2 November 2000 (at
the time of writing that’s 1,764 days).
Indeed, so committed is he to the nametag metaphor that on the
recent five-year anniversary of his nametag wearing, he had
his nametag design tattooed onto his chest. You might well
doubt his sanity, but it’s hard to doubt his commitment.
If it sounds like he needs to get a life, think again. In a
world in which people are becoming increasingly isolated,
Ginsberg has become an advocate in getting people connected.
‘When I started doing this I was a junior in college,’ says
Ginsberg.
‘I was at a seminar and like a lot of seminars require we had
these nametags on. Afterwards we had this idea to go uptown
and keep them on, just to see what happens. People were being
friendly and saying ‘hi’ to us, introducing themselves… it
really encouraged people to communicate more.
‘A little while later I decided to do it forever because I
realised how appropriate it was to try to open up these lines
of communication.
‘The problem with communication right now in our society is
that people don’t want to take that pivotal first step,’ says
Ginsberg. ‘From there friendships can form and all you’ve got
to do is take that initiative.’
Ginsberg’s insight into human communication transfers readily
to paradigms of sharing Jesus’ story. The predominant metaphor
he uses is that of the ‘front porch’, a concept where the key
idea is ‘approachability’.
‘A front porch,’ he says, ‘is any object or behaviour that
increases approachability… The key is, approachability is a
two way street. And it all starts with that first step—either
welcoming people onto your front porch, or stepping onto their
front porch.
Ginsberg lists five benefits of being approachable. He says it
gives: permission to create ‘unforgettable encounters’;
opportunities to develop ‘mutually valuable
relationships’; confidence to ‘approach and be
approached by the people whom you serve’; comfort
between you and each person with whom you interact; and
trust to ‘keep them coming back’.
Remove the marketing spin and what Ginsberg offers is a
metaphor that makes a lot of sense for the way we conduct
ministry. It’s a business model that could easily find its
basis in the life of Jesus, and while it’s not really
revolutionary, or even new, it does offer a novel metaphor for
thinking about evangelism—a metaphor that builds a bridge
between attractional and incarnational models of ministry.
We’ve all read and heard about how attractional models of
ministry (i.e. trying to get people inside our
buildings/programs etc.) are no longer effective, and that
incarnational ministry (i.e. going ‘out’ and being among the
people) is more in line with Jesus’ life.
What the front porch metaphor offers is a thought process and
methodology to help move from an attractional model to an
incarnational one. There is not much point of being ‘out
there’ among the people if we are not also conscious about
where meaningful interaction are/might take place (i.e.
knowing where the front porches are).
The front porch metaphor works both organisationally (where
are the front porches for our corps?) and personally (where
are the front porches of my life?). Most soldiers don’t
disagree with incarnational ministry, but many, I would hazard
a guess, are unsure about how that looks in their life.
Having almost let myself become ‘imprisoned’ in The Salvation
Army system (working for the Army five days a week and being
at the corps on Sunday), I recently realised that, apart from
the front porch philosophy we use to produce Warcry,
all my other front porches were internal/organisational ones
(i.e. I have contact with a lot of people within the Army, but
I had no community-based front porches).
Recently, I joined a local triathlon club, and while I didn’t
join for the express purpose of evangelism (though I was
seeking community), the sport of triathlon has become a
valuable front porch for me to share in the lives of others,
and engage them at times in conversations about the deeper
issue of life.
As a front porch it’s offered up conversations about topics
such as grief, alcohol consumption and life priorities.
It’s not simply about knowing people; it’s about being
approachable and having permission to approach others and talk
about things aside from the trivial. It’s not about looking
for ‘evangelism opportunities’; it’s about the doing
relationships as a whole—physically, emotionally and
spiritually.
In this way front porches have to be deliberately
constructed—and practised—without the sole endgame being
‘getting people into church’. Front porches are about ‘being
Jesus’ among the people.
Continuously wearing a nametag has led Ginsberg into to some
bizarre, but enlightening, conversations, such as the time he
was visiting New York and he noticed a man sitting on a park
bench feeding nuts to squirrels.
‘I looked at him,’ writes Ginsberg in his blog (http://hellomynameisscott.blogspot.com),
‘and he looked at my nametag and waved me over, “Hey Scott,
come sit down next to me...feed the squirrels. It's a lot of
fun!” I was hesitant at first, but he seemed like a nice old
guy.
‘So he puts a nut in my right hand and tells me to hold my
left hand palm up and to simply wait, and let the squirrels
come to me. Before I knew it, I felt a thud on my back and a
squirrel was scurrying across my chest and onto my hand.’
A conversation then ensued in which Ginsberg learnt how the
man had been feeding the squirrels every day for 20 years and
had names for about 50 of the ‘regulars’. ‘My name is Ira,’
the man shared, ‘but everyone knows me as the squirrel man.’
And it all started from a nametag and willingness to engage
with people in their daily routine.
The challenge for us is to consider how
accessible—approachable—we are to the people in our lives,
what we do with the accessibility and to find our own front
porches.
Ginsberg’s web site www.hellomynameisscott.com, while a
site about his business, offers some great food for though in
how we approach our relationships.
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