In the 1980 major motion biblical allegory “The Blues Brothers,” titular brother Jake Blues repeatedly insists, “We’re on a mission from God.” And the man was right. We are all on a mission from God. Sure, our mission may not include jamming with Aretha Franklin (although saving her from her own hats is truly a worthy cause), but it certainly involves spreading the joy of the Lord to those around us. Because while most of us aren’t called to the far-flung corners of the earth to do the Lord’s work, we are all called to the near-flung reaches of our offices, neighborhoods and canasta clubs.
Granted, in a time when wishing a coworker “Merry Christmas” might land you a visit with HR along with some mandatory reeducation, er, sensitivity training, spreading the Good Word in a good manner has become increasingly difficult. Nonetheless, Christ’s charge is not to “go forth and do what is righteously easy, bro.” It is to go forth and spread the righteous message. Sure, it’s tough. But when going gets tough, the tough avoid the issue by making a tips-n-tricks list for fellow believers.
So please, do as I say and not as I do:
DO: Pray before eating your lunch.
DO NOT: Ask Betsy from Accounting if her Big Mac contains meat offered to Baal. Mickey D’s hasn’t served Baal-meat since 1977, excepting certain locations in Pierre, South Dakota.
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DO: Offer to pray for a coworker’s ailing mother.
DO NOT: Offer to take your snakes over to said mother’s house for “a little ol’ fashion slitherin’, spiritualizin’ and desickifyin’.”
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DO: Put a fish emblem on the back of your car.
DO NOT: Put a fish emblem on the back of your car and then drive like you normally do. I’m looking at you, Paula Kumquatski. And I can read lips.
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DO: Play Burl Ives’ “Holly Jolly Christmas” in July as a lighthearted way to get your cubicle neighbors’ minds off of the oppressive summer heat.
DO NOT: Argue with your cubicle neighbors about Hermie the Elf’s powerful position within the “gay claymation mafia.”
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DO: The jitterbug. Modestly.
DO NOT: Dress, tan and otherwise bedazzle yourself like you’re on “Dancing with the Stars.” This is more a matter of good taste than anything theological.
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DO: Converse politely with your row mates on the plane about international affairs and their eschatological implications.
DO NOT: Gossip indiscriminately with your row mates about Tiger’s international affairs. This includes asking to borrow your neighbor’s copy of In Touch magazine.
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DO: Unto others as you would have them do unto you.
DO NOT: Unto others as you believe they have done unto you behind your back.
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DO: Tell acquaintances that church is a place they can start to unravel life’s greatest mysteries.
DO NOT: Tell acquaintances that church is full of righteous babes.*
*If under 25, reverse these instructions.
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DO: Refuse to take part in activities that would make the devil smile.
DO NOT: Refuse to take part in activities because you believe your boss is Satan.
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DO: Speak in a way that emulates Christ.
DO NOT: Speak in a way that emulates Ned Flanders.
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DO: Wish cashiers “Merry Christmas!”
DO NOT: Wish cashiers “Merry Pagan Smackdown Day!” Unless you happen to catch me during my shift at the eyebrow threading kiosk.
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DO: Know the Roman’s Road by heart.
DO NOT: Sing “Highway to Hell” at the office karaoke party. The key is way too high for you. Trust me.
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DO: Loan your wife’s uncle your copy of C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity.
DO NOT: Loan your wife’s uncle your Official Joel Osteen Teeth Whitening Kit with Bonus Soul Freshener. Just buy him a new one.
I could go on. And on. And on some more. But these few guidelines should be enough to start you down the rewarding road of evangelical outreach to those around you. Will you annoy some people? Yes. But you probably annoy those people already. I know I do. So even if you don’t have a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes or wear sunglasses when it’s dark, you can still do what Jake and Elwood Blues would do: Hit it.