This post was last shared in 2021 but was written long before. It was a fun day, yet one where I might have paid attention to the wrong details.
“Grande Christmas Blend for Shawn. Peppermint Mocha Frappuccino with a double shot. Earl. A tall for Debbie,” came from her headset-flanked mouth. The voice, wrapped in a green apron, bellowed routinely amidst the caffeine-laden aroma. She stood aloof, her eyes fixed on the line out the door.
Wedged between the clamor and boxed travel mugs was the firm stance of a petite woman in skinny jeans perusing the menu. While clutching her designer bag with one hand and coddling a cup in the other, she slid into the wooden chair across the table. And then, as she reached for a paper napkin in my stack of abundance, our eyes connected and she questioned, “Are you local?” (I’m approachable like that.) The twenty something, long-haired traveler detailed for me her journey, from its inception to the boorish interstate encounter with an Oklahoma state policeman, and then her destination (still eight hours away). She queried safe hotels and in my fervor to meet her tangible needs, my hindsight recalls an opportunity missed.
A new, boisterous voice made its way from the leather chair across the room. With outstretched legs and feet propped up, this woman seemingly found urgency in quitting her job to run for office. Her message to all the customers in the room was sketchy. What office? Where office? The door was open…An opportunity missed.
A crowded room.
Red paper cups brimming with conversation.
Faces.
Souls.
I am not ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ…Or am I? It all begins locally. How can a soul receive the gospel of Christ if they do not realize the sickness of sin? How can the light of the gospel illumine a life having no idea of the darkness? How can the sweetness of the gospel be shared if we do not take opportunities.
“For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes.” – Romans 1:16a
Debbie Swindell 