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I had to find a different place to get
my hair cut. The places I had been trying
just couldn’t work miracles like I had wanted. Seriously
though, I was tired of the popular haircutting chains, they all seemed the same. I was looking for something less expensive but
also for something else that I just couldn’t put my finger on. I live near “the Hill” in south St.
Louis and as destiny would have it I saw a barber shop the other day that looked like it
had been there since President Roosevelt was in office.
The price was about three dollars cheaper than what I had been paying to get
my hair cut so, needless to say, I decided to check it out.
When I first entered the small barbershop I was surprised to see so many men
in their mid-to-late seventies sitting there. Three
barbers cutting hair and at least six men were waiting for a chair to come available. Unlike other places that I went to get my hair
cut, they directed me to a hook on the wall so I could take a number so that they knew
whose turn it was. Some of the customers
looked like they had been there a while. But
no one seemed upset by the wait. Everybody
from the barbers to the gentlemen waiting seemed to know each other. They talked about city issues, city politics and
families. It seemed like I had wandered not
into a place a business, but into a Norman Rockwell painting. I glanced at the gentlemen next to me
and noticed that he didn’t look like he needed a haircut. He could have passed for Mr. Clean’s
great-grandfather. What was he doing here? I looked down and in his hands he held a number
for a haircut and seemed to be waiting just like the rest of us. When his number was called I watched him sit down
in the barber chair as the barber smiled and said, “Hey Charlie how you doing? You
want the usual, just a little off the top?” “Yea
Bill, give me the usual.” he replied. I
thought to myself that this should be interesting. The
customer didn’t even have peach fuzz on the top,
so whatever the barber did, it shouldn’t take long at all. But Bill the barber treated him just like he would
an old friend and began to go through the motions of cutting his hair, just like he had
done for everyone else. That is when it hit
me. I was in a place that gave more than
haircuts, in their own way they gave these men the respect they deserved and the
friendship they needed. Everyone was treated
like family, so much so I almost expected to see a heavy set man to come through the doors
at any moment and make me an offer for my number card that I couldn’t refuse. I had indeed wandered into a place where people
felt like they belonged and where they felt connected.
Places like that are hard to find these days, but that is what we all long
for. Is that feeling of being with friends
what visitors get when they visit Zion? I
can’t speak for other churches, but I want our place of worship to be a place where
the loneliest person can find hope, where the most unlovable person can find love, and
where the vilest sinner can find grace. I
believe there are people looking for places to connect with others on Sundays but too
often they leave the church with more “religion” but less of a sense of
God’s presence. May those who visit us
find a place of love, acceptance and
forgiveness as they find a people that will love them, accept them as they are, and take
the time to learn their first name. |