"make mine a double"
I am not a drinker.
There are several reasons for that.
Beer is nasty. The smell alone should have been enough, but no, I had to try it. One sip was enough to make it a non issue. Wine tastes like rotten fruit that should be thrown out, not consumed. At a family friends New Years Eve party when I was 10 or 11 there was was orange juice on the kitchen table. I was thirsty. A cup was nearby, so I helped myself rather than bother the adults in the living room. It burned like fire, but I liked it. A lot. I asked my mom why the orange juice tasted funny. She told me it wasn't orange juice, it was a drink called a screwdriver. If Vodka and orange juice had been available in my home growing up I probably would not be able to start this blog with the same sentence.
By the time I got to high school, alcohol (and drugs) was readily available if you knew who to ask. I had seen pure, hate filled meanness come out of both of my uncles when they had been drinking. Our extended family was fractured due to divorce, heavily influenced, I believe, by the power alcohol had over my uncles and their wives. It was easy to decide I didn't want that for myself.
So, I am not a drinker, but because I do not live under a rock, and because of my family history, I am well aware that "make mine a double" has something to do with making a drink stronger. It was a phrase I never in a million years thought I'd hear in church. But hear it I did, this morning, as I was pouring grape juice into communion cups before service and a young man walked by. The chuckle that followed told me he is familiar with normal context.
My immediate thought was "that was inappropriate."
My second thought was wow, that is totally fitting.
More weeks than I'd like to admit I have wished that the grape juice cup was half gallon sized and the communion bread was a loaf. Because sometimes I feel like a need a double (at least) dose of Jesus' forgiveness. Of His mercy. Of His grace. Of His compassion. Of His kindness. Of His comfort. Of His love. This was one of those weeks. You want evidence?
A portion of a text I sent a friend a few days ago can serve as exhibit A:
I attended back to back church services this morning. I almost took communion twice. Because I thought about this text. Of the complaining and grumbling I've done. Of the thoughts I've had and nurtured rather than banished. But as I sat with my head bowed during the second service, praying, contemplating making mine a double by picking up a small cracker and cup of juice again, I was filled with the assurance that it was not necessary.
Because the God I serve, sees me. The good, the bad, the ugly. The struggles and the victories. The near misses. The flat out refusals. The reluctant, hesitant steps of obedience. The willing obedience. He hears my cries of sorrow and my shouts of joy. My requests for mercy and grace upon grace. The whispers asking for Him to provide all that I need so that I might accurately reflect Him. He loves me. As long as I continue to look to Him, I will always receive more than double because He is a lavish God.
There are several reasons for that.
Beer is nasty. The smell alone should have been enough, but no, I had to try it. One sip was enough to make it a non issue. Wine tastes like rotten fruit that should be thrown out, not consumed. At a family friends New Years Eve party when I was 10 or 11 there was was orange juice on the kitchen table. I was thirsty. A cup was nearby, so I helped myself rather than bother the adults in the living room. It burned like fire, but I liked it. A lot. I asked my mom why the orange juice tasted funny. She told me it wasn't orange juice, it was a drink called a screwdriver. If Vodka and orange juice had been available in my home growing up I probably would not be able to start this blog with the same sentence.
By the time I got to high school, alcohol (and drugs) was readily available if you knew who to ask. I had seen pure, hate filled meanness come out of both of my uncles when they had been drinking. Our extended family was fractured due to divorce, heavily influenced, I believe, by the power alcohol had over my uncles and their wives. It was easy to decide I didn't want that for myself.
So, I am not a drinker, but because I do not live under a rock, and because of my family history, I am well aware that "make mine a double" has something to do with making a drink stronger. It was a phrase I never in a million years thought I'd hear in church. But hear it I did, this morning, as I was pouring grape juice into communion cups before service and a young man walked by. The chuckle that followed told me he is familiar with normal context.
My immediate thought was "that was inappropriate."
My second thought was wow, that is totally fitting.
More weeks than I'd like to admit I have wished that the grape juice cup was half gallon sized and the communion bread was a loaf. Because sometimes I feel like a need a double (at least) dose of Jesus' forgiveness. Of His mercy. Of His grace. Of His compassion. Of His kindness. Of His comfort. Of His love. This was one of those weeks. You want evidence?
A portion of a text I sent a friend a few days ago can serve as exhibit A:
I attended back to back church services this morning. I almost took communion twice. Because I thought about this text. Of the complaining and grumbling I've done. Of the thoughts I've had and nurtured rather than banished. But as I sat with my head bowed during the second service, praying, contemplating making mine a double by picking up a small cracker and cup of juice again, I was filled with the assurance that it was not necessary.
Because the God I serve, sees me. The good, the bad, the ugly. The struggles and the victories. The near misses. The flat out refusals. The reluctant, hesitant steps of obedience. The willing obedience. He hears my cries of sorrow and my shouts of joy. My requests for mercy and grace upon grace. The whispers asking for Him to provide all that I need so that I might accurately reflect Him. He loves me. As long as I continue to look to Him, I will always receive more than double because He is a lavish God.
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