I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know where you come from. I don’t know why you’re visiting our church, and frankly, I don’t care.
But there is one thing I know, one glorious truth shining like a beacon in the darkness: I will surely shake your hand, come hell or high water—so help me God.
Stop resisting. Don’t try to fight it. Don’t try to ignore me. Don’t try to sneak by me, looking down on your phone like you don’t see me. Don’t try to keep your hands in your pockets, thinking that I’ll just let you slide on by without your Sunday morning handshake from ol’ Fred here. I know all the tricks.
I see that hand of yours, and I will give it a good, firm handshake, whether you like it or not. Whether we make eye contact or not. Whether I have to physically step in front of you or not. Whether I have to chase after you or not.
One time, in the summer of ’97, a guy slipped by me without a handshake. I was fast, but he was faster. That day I began training, and made a vow that it would never happen again. That was 20 years ago, my friend, and you will not break the streak I have worked so hard for.
We are going to do this. We are going to shake hands. And there are two ways it can happen: the easy way, or the really easy way.
Give it up. Shake my hand. It’s for your own good.