As I watch clouds gather to water the ground, I gather a few thoughts to share.
For many years after I received Christ I refused to walk into a liquor store. I have personal history surrounding the spiritual and physical onslaughts of liquid spirits. I thought someone might see or judge me. I thought I was sinning.
Once someone bought me a can of beer to help me get rid of slugs in my garden because I would not buy one. Another time I took care of a client and had to go buy him beer. I fought but it was part of my job so I did, but I felt horrible about it. One other time I picked up some vinegar for my sister-in-law which was shipped to a liquor store in my area and delivered it to save her shipping charges. I didn’t feel comfortable about that either.
A few years ago my daughter got a cooking job at a local tavern. I was appalled! My son began helping out with washing dishes. I was appalled! I said, with less-than-holy ardor, “Thanks so much God, for answering the desires of my heart.”
COVID came. The tavern closed. Slowly, after many changes, it opened again and my daughter returned. My son did not.
Today, I am unemployed and I help out at the tavern and wash dishes when needed. They have great food! My daughter is the cook. Everyone is friendly.
A professional kitchen is not your mother’s kitchen. There are so many rules you HAVE to follow. I do what I am told.
Yes, I have history but I also have His story! Instead of harboring a sense of horror, I recognize an area of my life I needed humility.
Jesus wasn’t ashamed to sit with publicans and sinners and tell His story. Why should I? He didn’t drink and carouse with them. Neither do I.
I don’t talk about Jesus at my job. I show them Jesus. I wash dishes and talk about the food. My daughter is the cook.
Sometimes I say God has a sense of humor. Why do I always feel like I am the punchline?
Deflated to be filled again with His Holy Spirit.
I still wait for rain.