Posted tagged ‘how is it with your soul’

Coffee With Jesus

July 9, 2014

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                    July 9, 2014

 

                                       

 

   The steam rose from the mug of coffee and disappeared in the air. I sat facing him and wondering how our conversation would flow.

“I was surprised you would meet me here, Lord.”

“You can call me Jesus. I don’t mind. In fact, I think I prefer it.”

“Oh…well…okay…Jesus. That sounds a little strange, but I’ll try to get used to it.”

“Would you prefer that I call you Bill…or Subject?”

“Subject?”

“The other end of the spectrum from Lord.”

“Bill is fine.”

“So Bill, what’s going on in your life?”

“A lot…church work…our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary coming up…grandkids…just a lot of stuff.”

“How is it with your soul?”

“What…my soul…that’s a hard question to answer. It would be easier to start with something simpler, like whether or not I think the Reds will make the playoffs in baseball this season?”

“Something that doesn’t dig as deep?”

“Something less painful.”

“Is talking about your soul a painful topic to explore?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’m a pastor. Like the song, it is always suppose to be well with my soul.”

“But it isn’t.”

“No. Sometimes it’s like steam rising from the cup, inviting and comforting; but other times there is no steam left. The lukewarmness penetrates to my bones.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Jesus, you know. Why do I even have to tell you?”

“So you can discover what you are afraid to say.”

“That much of my life feels like a playground merry-go-round…that is always moving but never going anywhere.”

“That’s a powerful image. What is the picture that you wish your life would show?”

“I don’t know. It’s easier to describe how it is than what it should be.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Didn’t you just ask me that question thirty seconds ago?”

“And you started to answer it.”

“I guess it goes back to this cup of coffee. I’ve always had my coffee with cream and sugar. I add enough of each to the point that I miss the essence of what gets poured in the mug first…the coffee. I’m guessing that my soul gets disguised with other “stuff’ to the point that I don’t know how it is with it.”

“Wearing disguises protects us from what we’re afraid to find.”

 

                               TO BE CONTINUED