Revealed… A Cup Of Coffee And A Donut!

Posted: January 26, 2015 in Revealed...!
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This week i am closing out the Revealed series which has been about the personal things that God revealed to me through this unlikely book. Unlikely in that i would never have picked up from the shelf let alone buy. it. Unlikely in that it caused me to take a fearless moral inventory of my life at the end of 2014. Unlikely in that a group of us were so moved by the “between the lines” messages that we are meeting every Monday to share what God reveals to us in each chapter.

There is no doubt in my mind that Katie has the greatest capacity to love of anyone i have ever meet. Her relentless love makes me look like a hater. i’m not… i’m just sayin. i know that i could not or would not do what Katie has done and continues to do. But i also know that my views on love have been changed.

So this week i would like to look at a couple of stories outside of Kisses From Katie.

imagesThe first is about a man by the name of Tony Campolo . In his book The Kingdom of God Is a Party, Tony relates an experience he had late one night in Hawaii.

Up a side street I found a little place that was still open. I went in, took a seat on one of the stools at the counter, and waited to be served. This was one of those sleazy places that deserves the name, “greasy spoon.” I did not even touch the menu. I was afraid that if I opened the thing something gruesome would crawl out. But it was the only place I could find.

The fat guy behind the counter came over and asked me, “What d’ya want?”

I said I wanted a cup of coffee and a donut.

He poured a cup of coffee, wiped his grimy hand on his smudged apron, and then he grabbed a donut off the shelf behind him. I’m a realist. I know that in the back room of that restaurant, donuts are probably dropped on the floor and kicked around. But when everything is out front where I could see it, I really would have appreciated it if he had used a pair of tongs and placed the donut on some wax paper.

As I sat there munching on my donut and sipping my coffee at 3:30 in the morning, the door of the diner suddenly swung open and, to my discomfort, in marched eight or nine provocative and boisterous prostitutes.

It was a small place, and they sat on either side of me. Their talk was loud and crude. I felt completely out-of-place and was just about to make my getaway when I overheard the woman beside me say, “Tomorrow’s my birthday. I’m going to be 39.”

Her “friend” responded in a nasty tone, “So what do you want from me? A birthday party? What do you want? Ya want me to get you a cake and sing ‘Happy Birthday’?”

“Come on,” said the woman sitting next to me. “Why do you have to be so mean? I was just telling you, that’s all. Why do you have to put me down? I was just telling you it was my birthday. I don’t want anything from you. I mean, why should you give me a birthday party? I’ve never had a birthday party in my whole life. Why should I have one now?”

When I heard that, I made a decision. I sat and waited until the women had left. Then I called over the fat guy behind the counter, and I asked him, “Do they come in here every night?”

“Yeah!” he answered.

“The one right next to me, does she come here every night?”

“Yeah!” he said. “That’s Agnes. Yeah, she comes in here every night. Why d’ya wanta know?”

“Because I heard her say that tomorrow is her birthday,” I told him. “What do you say you and I do something about that? What do you think about us throwing a birthday party for her—right here—tomorrow night?”

You’ll have to come back tomorrow for more of the story.

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