[ i want to spend it with You ]

Pre-blog note: I haven't written in awhile. You'll be able to tell. This entry is way too long. Upcoming entries will be shorter, I promise. Okay, that's all... :)

Early mornings and long shifts filled with biscuits & gravy (hold the grits), tourists (the park is about ten minutes away with traffic) and this beautiful array of coworkers ended this past Wednesday.

My last two tables: my family & the neighbors who live across the street. Kind of endearing.

The more I think about this summer in a 'bigger picture' sense (or the tiniest piece I see now, anyway), the more I am grateful for the opportunity to serve tables. Each shift brought this amazing assortion of emotion and experience:

Why is Julie wiping tears from her eyes and leaving work? (Her husband went off on her this morning. And it's her birthday.)

These college kids just left me $20. (Instant emotion-driven high.)

Tickets are taking a half-hour today. (Guests are frustrated.)

I really am excited to be serving people today. (Encouraging.)

I am putting on face today. I should just go home. (Snap out of it.)

It's just before 10 pm (closing time) and a party of 8 just arrived. (We're all ready to go home. Melissa exclaims, "It's that damn church group again! They come in all revived, run me and leave me 3 bucks. This sucks.")

***

The evening prior to Melissa's frustration, I read a bit of Barbara Ehrenreich's Nickel and Dimed, a really brilliant look at America's working poor. Ehrenreich spends months on end working, living off various low-wage jobs and collecting life experience for her undercover reportage.

I came across this:

"The worst [guests], for some reasons, are the Visible Christians -- like the ten-person table, all jolly and sanctified after Sunday night service, who run me mercilessly and then leave me $1 on a $92 bill. Or the guy with the crucifixion T-shirt (SOMEONE TO LOOK UP TO) who complains that his baked potato is too hard and his iced tea too icy (I cheerfully fix both) and leaves no tip at all. As a general rule, people wearing crosses or WWJD? buttons look at us disapprovingly no matter what we do, as if they were confusing waitressing with Mary Magdalene's original profession."

Ouch.

It hurts, really, to know that Melissa's interactions with spirituality have been tainted by just a few who have been unwilling to embrace and accept her as their Father does. It hurts, you know, to hear her associate Jesus with that kind of thing. It sucks, honestly.

This summer I had the opportunity to serve a ton of really great guests -- families who treated me so well, older couples who complimented my hard work, even a few who called my manager over to tell him "he'd better keep this one," or something like that. (A little awkward sometimes.)

I waited on an older couple who came in for a late lunch one afternoon, and though I'm not the biggest fan of Jesus T-shirts, I was looking forward to serving this couple -- the husband was wearing a "You Don't Deserve This...But He Did It Anyway" T-shirt. I sighed, probably, because I just do that sometimes, but I was kind of pumped. Throughout the summer, I had served a few Christian couples and families who were just great.

(Sidenote: I've had plenty of Jesus T-shirts. I think the funniest was probably the got jesus? one I ordered off a random Web site freshman year of high school -- reminiscent of the popular got milk? ads, you know...)

I walked up to the couple, made eye contact (key), introduced myself and began to script the day's lunch features.

"Hi! Welcome to Cracker Barrel. My name is Jessica and I'll be taking care of you today. This afternoon we are featuring..."

"Coke."

"Water."

"We just want to order now."

Ouch.

I took their order, gathered their menus and quickly entered the two meals into our computer system. I filled their drinks, took a deep breath, grabbed a few straws and took the glasses out to their table. (#244.)

They just sort of looked at me. I thought I had done something wrong, to be honest.

You know, I wanted so badly for this couple to acknowledge me, to respect me, to understand that I genuinely wanted to provide a service to them, and for them to be pleased with the company, their food and their server.

Even more, I wanted to say to the man something like, "I like your shirt," but that would have been dishonest. I didn't.

I just wanted them to know I loved Jesus too.

***

Here's the thing: I do what I hate.

Once in awhile, even after a great conversation or time with God, I'll snap at John or Josh for something stupid.

Bouts of passivity or this constant battle for image-output lands me back on my knees (the place I surely started from...).

***

As I read through the Gospels, I can't help but to notice how highly Jesus placed the value of human life and dignity:

Defilement? Touch the leper anyway.

Poor? Hungry? Caught in promiscuity? Love and provide for the unloveable anyway.

Hurt and betrayed? Go to the cross anyway.

Defeated by death? Be raised for a fallen humanity.

***

You know, followers of Jesus let each other down. We're still here, in this place, amongst sin and dirt. He's begun a good work, but we're not yet complete.

The life-example Jesus sets forth for dignity, justice and truth continues to sort of leap right off the pages of the Gospels.

There's this feeling inside of me lately that God is calling me -- calling us -- to something more radical than we can even imagine. I get this sort of gut-wrenching conviction that the way I love, interact and treat others can directly impact their own interactions with God. That if I'm really made in the image of God and called to make disciples of all nations, God is pushing me toward the trenches, and really, to be present wherever I am.

It's exciting and scary and beautiful to think that we are servants and leaders of this great cause -- that there are people all around us just barely breathing, and we're called to live and interact in such a way that they will be able to see and approach their Rescuer.

I love that.

***

Throughout my life, I want to be able to protect others' dignity and right to life. It's something that is sort of engrained in the way I think, I've learned.

The thing is, I suck at it on my own.

He must...must...must interceed.

If the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead does live and reign in us, the beliefs and ideas that hold value in our lives -- the ones that Jesus lived, died and was raised for -- really can become reality.

We can love others with the hope of them coming to know the crucified, risen Lord.

We can do good works -- love people, fight for justice, protect human life, take part in a full passion for the gospel of Jesus -- even when surrounded by death and destruction, because we've been created in the image of God, and He's prepared it all anyway.

Love you guys.

-Jessie