As I boarded the plane for my flight from Raleigh to Sacramento via Denver, I was looking forward to some quiet time. The kind hard to find on a Saturday with three little ones. So I carefully scanned the plane and found the middle seat between two people already on their electronics, and claimed this the one to be my sanctuary for the next four hours. Over the next few hours, I read some of "Pray, Write, Grow." , listened to a Rob Bell RobCast on the ZimZum of marriage, and even spent some time zoning out playing Subway Surfer.
I was reveling in my quiet retreat, until the gentleman to my left ordered a cup of coffee.
I have a love/hate relationship with coffee. I love that it gives me a burst of energy in the morning, but hate that my body is addicted. I hate coffee that tastes bad, but I love it when it is just right. For me the perfect cup of coffee is organic, fair trade, preferably made with beans grown in Ethiopia, and prepared with the perfect ratio of real sugar and cream. No thank you on the 'skinny' for my coffee. And like most things in my life, Jimmy makes my perfect cup better than I can or even Starbucks.
So I know myself well enough to know coffee on an airplane will be as bad as white wine on an in country flight in China. And while it may taste bad, it will be hot, similar to the previously mentioned glass of white wine.
When faced with an extra hot cup of coffee, it seems to me there are three choices on how to drink it: blow on it, wait for it to cool on it's own or drink it anyway burning your mouth so badly that you can't eat or drink anything else without pain for days.
My flight neighbor; however, knew a fourth way, the slurp. He began to quickly and noisily slurp his coffee down, barely pausing between slurps, never setting down the cup, until the entire thing was finished.
And while my first instinct was to become slightly annoyed at the disruption, I instead became amused as I thought of how the different ways we approach drinking coffee is often how we approach God's love. And that God's love, similar to the way we like our coffee, looks different to different people. For some it feels too hot, for others they only know the 'skinny' version, and yet others seem to be relishing in the just right combination. There are also those that don't even know or recognize the smell, taste or feel of God's love.
So I began to ask myself, how do I drink God's love? Perhaps it was too much time with my thoughts on a plane, or perhaps God wanted me to take notice of that slurp. Do I blow, wait, burn or slurp when it comes to fully embracing all God has for me and the greatness of his love?
Blow
Sometimes I know that God's love is so good, but I'm not sure I can handle it. He might ask something that feels too big. His love might even involve some pain if I let that Big love in, allowing myself to be vulnerable. So I try to change God. I tell him I want his love, but first I am going to shape it, control it to be what I think I desire, not what it is.
Wait
Other times I turn from God's love leaving him to wait for me. I distance myself. I ignore his nudges and fill myself with other things and forget he is even there. "Wait", I say. "The world will quench my thirst".
Burn
Perhaps most significantly painful are the times that I allow my perception of God to burn myself or others. I am righteously indigent, judgmental, or put God in a box where he does not belong. Just as when the coffee it too hot, I can not even taste God's true love for me in these moments.
Slurp
What if all along I was meant to slurp God's love. Not to turn away and ask God to wait, not to try to manipulate it and not to down a false version of it burning myself or others in the process.
I was reveling in my quiet retreat, until the gentleman to my left ordered a cup of coffee.
I have a love/hate relationship with coffee. I love that it gives me a burst of energy in the morning, but hate that my body is addicted. I hate coffee that tastes bad, but I love it when it is just right. For me the perfect cup of coffee is organic, fair trade, preferably made with beans grown in Ethiopia, and prepared with the perfect ratio of real sugar and cream. No thank you on the 'skinny' for my coffee. And like most things in my life, Jimmy makes my perfect cup better than I can or even Starbucks.
So I know myself well enough to know coffee on an airplane will be as bad as white wine on an in country flight in China. And while it may taste bad, it will be hot, similar to the previously mentioned glass of white wine.
When faced with an extra hot cup of coffee, it seems to me there are three choices on how to drink it: blow on it, wait for it to cool on it's own or drink it anyway burning your mouth so badly that you can't eat or drink anything else without pain for days.
My flight neighbor; however, knew a fourth way, the slurp. He began to quickly and noisily slurp his coffee down, barely pausing between slurps, never setting down the cup, until the entire thing was finished.
And while my first instinct was to become slightly annoyed at the disruption, I instead became amused as I thought of how the different ways we approach drinking coffee is often how we approach God's love. And that God's love, similar to the way we like our coffee, looks different to different people. For some it feels too hot, for others they only know the 'skinny' version, and yet others seem to be relishing in the just right combination. There are also those that don't even know or recognize the smell, taste or feel of God's love.
So I began to ask myself, how do I drink God's love? Perhaps it was too much time with my thoughts on a plane, or perhaps God wanted me to take notice of that slurp. Do I blow, wait, burn or slurp when it comes to fully embracing all God has for me and the greatness of his love?
Blow
Sometimes I know that God's love is so good, but I'm not sure I can handle it. He might ask something that feels too big. His love might even involve some pain if I let that Big love in, allowing myself to be vulnerable. So I try to change God. I tell him I want his love, but first I am going to shape it, control it to be what I think I desire, not what it is.
Wait
Other times I turn from God's love leaving him to wait for me. I distance myself. I ignore his nudges and fill myself with other things and forget he is even there. "Wait", I say. "The world will quench my thirst".
Burn
Perhaps most significantly painful are the times that I allow my perception of God to burn myself or others. I am righteously indigent, judgmental, or put God in a box where he does not belong. Just as when the coffee it too hot, I can not even taste God's true love for me in these moments.
Slurp
What if all along I was meant to slurp God's love. Not to turn away and ask God to wait, not to try to manipulate it and not to down a false version of it burning myself or others in the process.
What if God's love is so good, the only option is to slurp it? Drinking it noisily, relishing in it's goodness?
Heavenly father, I celebrate the gift of one man's slurp in my temple in the sky. May my chin drip with your love today. And may those that have never even had a taste join me in the slurp.
