Last Sunday morning, I ducked into Starbucks to get out of the rain. I was looking for a place to sit down and read my Bible for awhile. For some reason or another, God’s word goes well with coffee. As the barista was making my caffeinated, sugared, mostly-not-coffee-anymore coffee, I stared out the windows at the misty, atomized rain that seems all too common in the Puget Sound.
“They say that with the right counseling, they can cure him in three years.” He emphasized the word “cure” the way people do when they want you to agree that something is ridiculous. The speaker was an elderly gentleman on the other side of the store. The “he” that the speaker was referring to was that prominent preacher who recently admitted to doing bad things to good people.
My barista agreed with him… well, agreed with what he meant, not what he said.
“Maybe one day I’ll go and get myself cured. Then I can be a preacher for a big church, get rich, and retire.” That was the elderly gentleman again.
My barista thought that was a fine idea.
I, being on the other side of the room, merely disagreed silently as the barista brought my coffee over.
“That’s a nice book cover,” she said as she handed me my coffee.
“Thanks. It’s a Bible cover a friend of mine got me in Europe.”
It was awkwardly silent as I handed her my money.
There was more awkward silence as she gave me my change.
“Uh… has it always been that aged? I mean… did it come that color,” she said with the tone of voice one uses when you feel you’ve said something inappropriate, or, more precisely, when you’ve said something that would have been perfectly fine if I, the listener, hadn’t actually heard.
“Yup,” I said with the tone of voice I use when I say “yup.”
I took my coffee, said thank you, sat down at a table by a window, and watched the rain fall.
Questions.
Why is it, do you think, that people define themselves the way they do? The elderly gentlemen mocking the disgraced preacher defined himself by his sexuality. Had I told him that I believe homosexuality is morally wrong, he wouldn’t have heard that I disagree with something he does. He would have heard me saying that I disagree with the very essence of him.
Why is it that people think preachers are rich? Some are, I’ll grant you that. But most aren’t. I didn’t grow up eating lentils (which are a cheap source of protein for those on a budget) because my dad’s preaching was raking in the dough.
Do you think telling my barista and her elderly friend that their mockery of a Christian and of the preachers of this world didn’t offend me because it was based on a general ignorance of what a Christian is, that making fun of a caricature really isn’t offensive to the original model, do you think if I said all that, that it would have mattered?
So many questions, and not enough coffee.
“They say that with the right counseling, they can cure him in three years.” He emphasized the word “cure” the way people do when they want you to agree that something is ridiculous. The speaker was an elderly gentleman on the other side of the store. The “he” that the speaker was referring to was that prominent preacher who recently admitted to doing bad things to good people.
My barista agreed with him… well, agreed with what he meant, not what he said.
“Maybe one day I’ll go and get myself cured. Then I can be a preacher for a big church, get rich, and retire.” That was the elderly gentleman again.
My barista thought that was a fine idea.
I, being on the other side of the room, merely disagreed silently as the barista brought my coffee over.
“That’s a nice book cover,” she said as she handed me my coffee.
“Thanks. It’s a Bible cover a friend of mine got me in Europe.”
It was awkwardly silent as I handed her my money.
There was more awkward silence as she gave me my change.
“Uh… has it always been that aged? I mean… did it come that color,” she said with the tone of voice one uses when you feel you’ve said something inappropriate, or, more precisely, when you’ve said something that would have been perfectly fine if I, the listener, hadn’t actually heard.
“Yup,” I said with the tone of voice I use when I say “yup.”
I took my coffee, said thank you, sat down at a table by a window, and watched the rain fall.
Questions.
Why is it, do you think, that people define themselves the way they do? The elderly gentlemen mocking the disgraced preacher defined himself by his sexuality. Had I told him that I believe homosexuality is morally wrong, he wouldn’t have heard that I disagree with something he does. He would have heard me saying that I disagree with the very essence of him.
Why is it that people think preachers are rich? Some are, I’ll grant you that. But most aren’t. I didn’t grow up eating lentils (which are a cheap source of protein for those on a budget) because my dad’s preaching was raking in the dough.
Do you think telling my barista and her elderly friend that their mockery of a Christian and of the preachers of this world didn’t offend me because it was based on a general ignorance of what a Christian is, that making fun of a caricature really isn’t offensive to the original model, do you think if I said all that, that it would have mattered?
So many questions, and not enough coffee.
Comments