This morning I saw Jesus in my coffee. Well, not Jesus, but the cross. I think He is telling me that He forgives my coffee. That’s good because I planned on drinking it anyway.
For some reason a large church in Oklahoma sent me a “prayer rug” made out of paper. I am supposed to kneel on it and supplicate unto God. The “rug” has a picture of Jesus’ face and I am instructed to gaze into His eyes, and when I see Him look back into mine I am to be the recipient of a miracle. A miracle might be weight loss, a new car, a Christian spouse (another one?), a new job, or money. These are the kind of miracles that appeal to my selfishness. A better miracle seems to be one that would have me extend a generous hand to a person in need, but what do I know.
Most churches aren’t buzzing with revival excitement. Pastors aren’t brimming with revival chatter. No one is driving to Florida so the Holy Spirit makes them laugh until they pee.
Revival is caffeine. It makes you jumpy. Afterwards you crash. Now that most reputable churches have cafes, revival has been forgotten. I must add that I am not a revivalist; I am for coffee, because revival gives moments of glory to immature people who want what they have not earned—strong faith. You may only have faith after your leg is shattered, a grief haunts your heart, or tragedy has scarred you. Even Jesus didn’t want to drink from this cup, but it has been placed to your lips…
Where are the good people of Florida now that they have had their moment? Are they better parents? Are they servants and leaders in their neighborhood?
I suspect they have become drowsy; caffeine is not forever.
Now that “Christmas is over” we trudge back to the trenches and await the barrage of credit card bills and another year of work. But Christmas is not “over”. The simple Nazarene who takes the world in His arms is still saving you and still sustaining you, even though you left the Christmas party.
Wake up and smell the coffee, He lives.