It’s foggy. The air is warm and thick. Below, the surface of the lake is perfectly still, the silence broken only by the occasional splash of a fish snagging a morning morsel or the whisper of wings skimming by.
I’m sipping my coffee across from an empty patio chair and a thought jerks me aware: What if Christ were sitting there, relaxing with a mug of Columbian deep roast in His hand and half a smile on His face? The incarnate God of the universe, choosing to spend a companionable moment with me at a simple plastic table?
I’m immediately humbled – and ashamed.
There are so many other places He could be and way more interesting people to enjoy a brand new day with. There are desperate souls with crushing problems and entire governments unravelling even now. I’m stunned that He would stop by here and I think, I shouldn’t be taking up His time. I don’t deserve Him.
I almost tell Him so; but I stop.
What if this is exactly where He wants to be right now? What if He intentionally opted to be here and His presence at my table doesn’t diminish His impact (or limit His intervention) elsewhere?
Well, obviously, I’d close this laptop and give Him my full attention. I wouldn’t be planning out the rest of my day, giving in to distractions, and letting my mind wander. For sure, I wouldn’t be glancing at my phone every time it buzzed.
And I’d certainly know better than to fret about my loved ones and call it prayer.
My shame at being in His presence turns to relief. I’m so glad He’s here. Tears well up in my eyes and overflow freely down my cheeks. He reaches over to touch my soggy face and in that healing moment, I exhale.
He smiles; He knows me so well. And He asks for a refill.