3.22.2020 – God goes to Starbucks

God goes to Starbucks
gets a flat white and sits down
at hand to talk to

I was sitting at Starbucks the other day when a barrista held up a cup of coffee and yelled out, “God – Flat White? … God? – Flat White?”

Feller in a nice suit raised his hand and came forward and took the cup.

He turned and looked at me, caught my eye and gestured at the empty seat at my table.

I said, “Please.”

And he sat down.

Hard to explain but it came to me that, somehow, someway, God was sitting there with me, sharing a cup of coffee.

We chatted for a moment, the weather, sports and such.

While we chatted I searched my brain for something I could say that would be meaningful or at least not completely stupid.

There was a pause in the conversation and He said to me, “So tell me Mike, how are things going.

I had not told him my name.

I searched through my years in Sunday School, Church and reading the Bible and other books.

I looked at God and I said, “Not bad”

Then I said,

“I wish I was a better disciple.”

He looked at me for a good long minute, nodding his head.

“Well, you know the rules right?”

“Deny myself,” as I sat there with a $5 cup of coffee.

He nodded.

“Pick up my cross”

“And follow me,” He finished.

He nodded.

I nodded.

And I got emboldened.

Maybe recklessly emboldened.

“But,” I said, “That Cross. Lately, I am sorry, but that Cross has been too heavy.”

“Carrying it is too hard”

Boy was I surprised.

“No problem,” He said,

“We get a lot of that. Come with me.”

The next thing I knew we were at like a returns counter at Walmart.

On my back was this heavy, heavy Cross.

“Got a return here,” He said to the people behind the desk.

They all seemed to know him.

They came out from behind the desk and helped me unstrap the Cross on my back.

They took the Cross and put it on a little conveyor belt and it disappeared into a hole in the wall.

He took a sip of his coffee and said, “Now, come with me.”

He had this voice that I can only describe as ‘cool.’

We turned and there behind us was the Walmart of Crosses.

Aisles and Aisles.

Racks and racks.

“Try one on,” He said.

And I did.

It didn’t fit and I tried a another.

I tried tall ones, fat ones, red ones, blues ones, heavy ones and fragile ones.

I tried them all on so it seemed.

He was very patient.

He had ordered a trenta Flat White and continued to sip as I searched.

Finally, and I mean FINALLY, I found this Cross on a rack.

I took it down and got the straps over my shoulders and tightened them up across my chest.

I took the straps in my hands with my thumbs under the straps and felt the heft of the Cross.

I bounced up and down on my toes, flexed my knees.

Took a few steps back and forth.

This Cross fit.

Fit like it was made for me.

“This one,” I said.

“This is the one”

“This is the one I can handle.”

He nodded.

“Mike,” he said,

He took a sip.


“That’s the one you came in with.”

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