Starbucks revelation

I sat at starbucks today in California tapping my pen on the table next to a card that took me way too long to choose out of the cliched-filled rack of sympathy cards. Noah Steven Graves, 7 months, was taken off of life support last week and I was attempting to put into words something that was beyond human description. In a moment of honesty, I etched out some mediocre musings and put the card in the envelope. But, as my words felt inadequate, my spirit felt inspired. I just sat, sipping my dark roast coffee (which in my coffee-snobbiness I felt couldn't compare to my favorite cup of caribou coffee...how ironic to be dwelling on the trivial in that moment). My mind was bouncing between memories of James and images of little Noah in his hospital bed. And honestly friends, I felt as if I was pressed up against the cross. I could see it towering above me. I reached out and touched the wood only to withdraw in pain as splinters pierced their way into my palm. And it was empty. I felt what is becoming an all-too-familiar ache in my heart when I think of James...and only those who have experienced a deep loss can understand how your heart physcially hurts when you miss someone like that. I coddled the ache, mulling it over in my spirit and the whisper of Jesus came to me, "this is what I died for. This is what I am returning for." That ache in my heart is only a small amount of what Jesus took upon himself on the cross. Death was never the plan in the beginning, and only because of our selfishness and greed has it become a part of our life through the Curse. But, it's our choice to embrace death as a normal part of life, or to embrace eternity beyond this shadow of what is to come that we live in.

Where, o death, is your sting?! I can now scream it to the heavenlies.

As me and Jesus were having our intimate, caffeine-tickled moment, I couldn't help observe what was happening around me. There were two Iranian students behind me chatting away in Farsi. I understood bits and pieces of their conversation about frustrations over finances and other daily problems. Another couple of young, athletic, all-American guys were brainstorming youth group activities and were figuring out which part of the Bible teaching to cut out so they'd have enough time for a scavanger hunt. Two women across from me were scoping out adult education classes in a catalogue and another touchy-feely couple was chatting away in Spanish. It just seemed so ordinary. In some ways, insignificant. And yet, I thought, here we all sit in the shadow of the cross with its splinters in our hands.

"I am beginning to suspect...that the common transactions of life are the most sacred channels for the spread of the heavenly leaven." George MacDonald, The Curate of Glaston.

Amen, MacDonald. Amen.