Forgetting to Remember
My expression was sullen, exhausted, and probably a bit haggard. I fervently scrubbed the mug, thankful for a sweet mindless task. Voices murmured above the sound of piano music and an espresso machine. The little cafe had recently become my work-place, and you could say that it had been an--adjustment. The days looked much different than my days of working for ministries; reconciling the work, in my mind and heart, had continued to be challenging.
I felt discouragement wash over me like water over the mug. Joylessness, really--and I had the presence of mind in that moment to acknowledge it. My heart sank when I began to reckon with my feelings. And then, as I put the red mug on the drying rack, my ears picked up a few words passing between customers...
Enthusiastic, hope-filled, inspiring words.
He was clearly a New Spiritualist and beautifully convinced that his religion held every hope and answer needed to live life. The woman with him was engaged in his speech, to say the least. Honestly, you could almost see life being exchanged between the two. Then it dawned on me that it had been at least 2 hours of conversation, at that point in the morning...
I had filled their mugs with fresh coffee, three times.
Immediately, prayers escaped my lips. Oh Lord, these people don't even know the true, deep hope of You, and yet look at them!! I know the Hope of the World; in this moment, you'd never know it.
A shutter ran through my body--for them, yes, and for myself. Oh how blind these precious ones were! But oh how blind I was! How easily I had sunk to the ground, keeping company with complaint and discontent.
And yet--I knew the Hope of the World, and He was in me.
Tears sprang to my eyes; while I stood there washing those dishes, you never would've guessed that I knew Him. You never would've known that my hope was grounded fathoms deeper than the couple drinking coffee. Their hope was within themselves; my hope was in a God incarnate. Their hope was in their efforts to believe in faith; my hope sprang from the gift of faith.
I felt discouragement wash over me like water over the mug. Joylessness, really--and I had the presence of mind in that moment to acknowledge it. My heart sank when I began to reckon with my feelings. And then, as I put the red mug on the drying rack, my ears picked up a few words passing between customers...
Enthusiastic, hope-filled, inspiring words.
He was clearly a New Spiritualist and beautifully convinced that his religion held every hope and answer needed to live life. The woman with him was engaged in his speech, to say the least. Honestly, you could almost see life being exchanged between the two. Then it dawned on me that it had been at least 2 hours of conversation, at that point in the morning...
I had filled their mugs with fresh coffee, three times.
Immediately, prayers escaped my lips. Oh Lord, these people don't even know the true, deep hope of You, and yet look at them!! I know the Hope of the World; in this moment, you'd never know it.
A shutter ran through my body--for them, yes, and for myself. Oh how blind these precious ones were! But oh how blind I was! How easily I had sunk to the ground, keeping company with complaint and discontent.
And yet--I knew the Hope of the World, and He was in me.
Tears sprang to my eyes; while I stood there washing those dishes, you never would've guessed that I knew Him. You never would've known that my hope was grounded fathoms deeper than the couple drinking coffee. Their hope was within themselves; my hope was in a God incarnate. Their hope was in their efforts to believe in faith; my hope sprang from the gift of faith.
Oh Father, help me to live the hope that I have--that I may radiantly proclaim the hope of your Son, Jesus Christ.
And Lord, forgive me--us--for forgetting to remember.
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