I met Pastor Gary Miller last week at a nearby coffee shop. Isaiah 30 came up. He said he would be preaching on it next Sunday. That might be why our conversation centered around the battle imagery.
Either way, we gathered around a kind of flagpole, confessing our rebellion and oppression.
We talked about the difficult paths. Those behind us. And those ahead.
Here, Gary turns and leans his back against the brick wall. His white hair is long, tousled over like a prophet’s. He keeps that dark jacket on, but not because he’s anxious to leave. He simply sat down and wore what he came here wearing.
Gary is that kind of guy.
The table between us is small. Its wooden planks are uneven and full of unfinished coffee rings. Today we contribute two more circles to that conversation.
But there is another one taking place under the table. There’s a secret drawer here. Customers pull it open and place notes inside. Or they scribble responses to the notes others left. Usually, though, people are just curious about what other people are saying.
I opened the drawer once, but I held back from digging through it. It didn’t feel right.
I have enough unanswered questions through which to rifle.
“In repentance and rest you will be saved,
In quietness and trust is your strength.”
(Isaiah 30:15 NASB)
So tonight I’ll meditate on two coffee cups, a bunch of interlocking coffee rings and all the things of the spirit that don’t have a definite shape and don’t fit in our hands.
And trust that He’ll keep pouring.
This post is being shared with Laura Boggess for …
And also with L.L. Barkat for …
And also with Michelle DeRusha for …
I especially resonate with the last line – – the things of the spirit that don’t have a shape and don’t fit in our hands. I initally read it as, “that don’t fit in our heads.” Because I can’t fathom so many things. Someone asked me yesterday if I thought a Hindu friend was going to hell. I said no, I don’t think so, but it’s God’s problem, not mine. He is a wonderful man, this Hindu. My friend says he is going to hell. I don’t think we can order God around, or tell him what to do, or let the bible become our idol. Whoa. I can’t believe I just said that. Anyhow, you got me thinking of these things.
I wonder what Gary would think.
Probably just put me away in the drawer.
Gary wouldn’t put you away in a drawer. And he wouldn’t give you some easy answer either.
I do know he’d love your friend. Just like Jesus.
Coffee. What is it about God and coffee?
That drawer under the table holds a novel. It would be interesting to pull all the slips out, line them up, and then weave them into a story.
God longs to be near to our stories. He’ll show up anywhere to fill up even one empty mug.
Even (especially?) when the mug is shattered and He has to glue the bits back into a vessel first.
I’m in need of that verse constantly. Think I’ll spend some time with it right now…
Love the coffee ring image, both the literary one and the photo.
One day I’d like to commission a painting of coffee rings. I associate that verse with them now. Somehow it works for me.
You can really tell a story.
“In quietness and trust is your strength.” That verse is one of my favorites.
That verse always stuns me. How could it be?
And how could I forget?
What a gift to have a friend–a mentor, perhaps–to share a coffee and word with. It gives room to our own words, I think, when we share them with others. A lovely story, Matthew.
Our words do need room. You are right, Laura. So right.
And so much room is found in the sharing …
The best conversations happen over coffee with friends who “wear what they came here wearing”. I want to pull up a chair. And a secret drawer under a table with notes? Why don’t we have coffeehouses like that? Such an interesting idea.
As always, I loved reading your words here Matthew. You have a gift.
I chatted with Gary tonight. “I didn’t even realize that drawer existed,” he said. He thought it was interesting how we had our own conversation rolling along, but then another larger conversation was taking place, too, right below the table. And that’s usually how it is with people, he added.
He’s a wise man. I love him.
And I’m always thankful to have you join me here, Danelle. You are a friend and a blessing. And so is your writing.
I followed the comment you left on my blog back to your website. WOW! God has gifted you with the ability to craft His heart into words. I read this post and savored it slowly.
Thanks so much for reading, JoDee. I consider it a gift whenever I “meet” someone new out here in the blogosphere. And thank you for taking a moment to leave a comment. It means a lot.
I don’t think I could have helped myself – I would have rifled. I’m nosey that way.
I love the way you write, Matthew – so much detail. I felt like I was right there with you and Gary, adding my own coffee ring to the table.
That drawer kind of reminds me of some old-fashioned, pre-digital social media. Without gravatars and fonts. Just a collage of unseen fingerprints.
I hope we’ll do rings someday.
Matt–my husband gave me that scripture when I started the school year…rest and repentance, quietness and confidence. I love the reminder. thanks for sharing.
Whoa. That verse probably collides with most school days, doesn’t it? For me, I know it can be really tough to find, and keep, that rest. But truth wins, right? Yes, truth wins.
So glad I don’t have to keep that rest. Because I am kept.
Man.
Can you ever tell a story.
Stories sit in drawers, and sometimes they pool underneath mugs. We can touch them. But, man, is it ever tough to hold them. The best stories just don’t fit in our hands.
I’d avoid the questions, not because I wouldn’t be interested in them, but because I would have been. Focusing on other people’s problems relieves me from my own and somehow lulls me into believing that by solving theirs, I’ve somehow earned points toward my own problems.
Ha.
I’m brewing, “things of the spirit that don’t have a definite shape and don’t fit in our hands.”
What?! You mean, I could earn points???
I love your honesty, Christa.
Well, I guess we’re brewing the same pot together. However long it takes, it’s gotta be better for us than some plastic insta-cup, right?