In what has surely been said by others elsewhere better, I'm increasingly convinced that Starbucks Coffee shops (I don't know how to refer to the stores any better than I know how to correctly throw the caffiene jargon to effectively order a cuppa joe) are the agora of our day.
I just returned from a discussion with my student minister (covering matters specific and general) where I sipped a Vanilla Latte and he had an Americano (mocha, latte? I don't know). On one side of us, a quartet of 20-something women shared a friendly-but-animated conversation over something (I'd like to imagine they were debating the upcoming grand finale of Hit Me Baby One More Time, though I don't know that to be true. On the other, a foursome of fitness buffs strode in--two men & two women--confident and sweaty, ready to engage in a post-workout courtship ritual where the males of the species competitively flex various muscle groups while trying to look natural and the females recite freeform poetic stanzas about a bad break-up with their last boyfriend.
While we opined and collaborated, countless moms cavorted in, both sans and avec the kiddoes. One mom and daughter opposite the ordering line spread out summer school lessons for a little June academia. The young lass didn't appear to share the mom's enthusiasm over the opportunity to cogitate/caffienate.
A limosine stopped in front of the briskly-trafficking shop, with two middle-aged men dressed in sunglasses and bright summer linens stepping akwardly out before the chauffer could make it around back to escort them out more gracefully. I could see two bouffant hairdos (presumably attached to the heads of the fellas ladies) staying back in the air-conditioned luxury vehicle. The pals waited in line in front of two service industry employees wearing the uniform of white cotton dress shirts black slacks, and thick-soled work leathers.
Off in an adjoining corner twin junior executives opposed each other with facing laptops in what looked like the most hi-tech version of Battleship ever engaged. The young CEO-in-training with his back to me actually spent more time on his cell phone, while his Texas A&M screen saver offered scrolling praises to player Reggie McNeal. I wondered if his CoffeeMate®* was at all jealous over the lack of attention.
A plethora of worldviews mingling with a spectra of socioeconomic representatives. All immersed in their respective priorities and agendas, yet made equal by the necessary wait for their requested drink to be manufactured. I soaked in my surroundings. I wonder how many overheard us throwing around our own jargon....
spiritual development...
student ministry...
leadership is learned...
it all starts with relationship...
this may get me called a calvinist, but...
there's a difference between an intern and an associate...
In this, I'm convinced and convicted that more (and better) spiritual conversation needs to take place in locations such as this. And they need to be more engaging and interactive than the one I had today (which while was both, was completely closed to outsiders, as were all those that surrounded us). Here is the forum where dialogue can take place. Here is where the neighbor can be engaged, the truth communicated, and a life transformed.
Here is where the world convenes.
And a Cafe Breve runs through it.
*The other guy, not the beverage additive.
Do you realize you are talking about my former employer? Yes, it is altogether a unique atmosphere. You can't help but feel like a legal drug-dealer. After a week, you can prepare a person's shot of choice as soon as you see their car pull into a parking spot outside. Upon stepping up to the counter to fork over a week's wage, there waiting is their decaf, venti, non-fat, with whip, vanilla, 2 sugar in the raw latte'. And yes, there is an order to how you call a drink. Trust me...it is a very strict discipline.
Posted by: Matt at July 1, 2005 1:31 PM