Starbucks Community Church
-morgan young
Nov 14, '05, 9:41 am, Starbucks Kokomo
Everyone comes to Starbucks: business men in pleated Dockers and polo shirts, business women smartly dressed--hair and personality up tight, older ladies proudly wearing autumn scene-stitched sweatshirts; their husbands with Members Only jackets and white New Balance shoes, students still young enough to look fashionable in sweats, pit-stopped travelers in baggy comfortable clothes--stretching and flexing like over-sized gymnasts--then quickly scouting the little boys' or girls' room, bohemians in worn cargo pants, sock hats and multiple frayed wristbands. And then there are guys like me-- looking at all of them trying to figure out what is hip and cool for a guy of my age, build, and place in life.
All of us find our way to the counter; some swiftly, sure and confident of their order, others sheepishly slow, hanging by the over-priced travel mugs trying to make a decision. Caf., half caf., no caf., tall, grande, venti, extra shot, lite, black, Carmel Macchiato. We have no problem parting with a five, getting back little change as long as we get our drink of choice; our personal customized favorite.
I have a hunch that if I were to go around this shop butting into their lives asking what they're drinking, I wouldn't get simple answers like, "Pumpkin Spiced Latte," but little commercials subtly justifying why it is so good and that in fact, I too should order one.
Once upon a time in America coffee was just coffee. It's hard to believe but it was just one line on a menu and it was pocket change. Now it's an entire experience, an entire menu and entirely expensive, but that's ok; we like it this way. We get exactly what we want how we like it. And I feel like that phrase, "what we want how we like it," is not just about Starbucks, but about our entire life experience.
Coffee used to be one menu line and we drank it. Television was three channels and we all watched them. Church was church and we went to it (well, I didn't but that's another story). Now, in every part of my life I'm choosing my preferences from complex menus. But then on Sunday morning, this strange phenomenon happens...
All of us weird, diverse, personal-preference Starbucks people plop down into a seat in a church and we all try to watch the same channel; we all try to drink from the same cup. (Have you ever tried to watch TV with your grandparents? Tried to listen to the radio with your kids?) And every week, invariably its, "Too strong, too weak, not the right flavor, too fancy, too plain, served with too much hospitality or not enough." And just as hard as it is to get any ten people to equally like a Vanilla Latte, so it is for those same ten people to equally like the Sunday offering.
As I write this, it occurs to me that you and I are a long way from Jesus' Jerusalem. I would have been thankful to have a hot meal or any warm drink. Thankful that my clothes somewhat fit and didn't smell bad. But now I seem to be most thankful and blessed for my personal-preferenced life.
Now if I can only find a church with my fashion sense, reflecting my iWorshipTunes, and talks like Bill, Rick, Erwin, Louie, Rob or Andy. I think I'm looking for the Starbucks Community Church...
