an ugly reflection

I was working the counter at my part-time job today, when a man in his late forties or fifties approached with a stern expression. He ordered a triple latte, and then began asking questions about my barista procedures, as apparently the other coffeehouses in South Bend had all crossed him in some manner or another. I assured him that we had free (workable) WiFi, and that I wouldn't attempt to extract one long shot instead of the three he had ordered. I exhibited as much professionalism as I could muster, and made a beautiful latte, such as he has likely never experienced in our fair city.

I made a trip to the floor to wipe off tables and decided to check on him.

"Is everything fine with your latte?"

"Yeah," he replied in a monotone (and nearly disappointed) manner.

Score. I knew that he had expected me to fail him, so I relished in a moment of pride at his loss for ridicule.

Minutes later, I was in the middle of making nine shots for a triad of peppermint mochas, when he began looming over my bar.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Allegedly, the WiFi had failed him. I promised I would look into the problem after I helped the ladies in line. He sat back down. I finished and went back to reset the routers. Thirty seconds later, he returned with his computer packed. He explained to me that we must have the cheapest service available, and it was ridiculous that not one coffeehouse could figure out how to maintain their WiFi. He mentioned that it was our loss, since he would've bought another drink (you know, like the one he couldn't bring himself to enjoy). Satisfied with his angry scene, he left. I made my way to the house to ask one of our regular students about our signal. "Been working all day," she confessed.

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Later, as I pondered how miserable it must be to always expect the worst, I received a gentle swat from the Holy Spirit. What? Do I really do that? I mean, that guy was almost looking forward to being let down, as if we were discrediting his existence by treating him well! How could that behavior possibly speak into my life?

While I'm not a glowing optimist, I do tend to see the potential in things, particularly in other people. I have a bright outlook concerning my eventual career and my financial dealings. I expect to have a good experience when I dine out or stay in with friends. Even when my co-workers begin to grumble, I'm able to recognize that I get paid adequately for what amounts to structured babysitting.

But sadly, I carry a heavy pessimism in two areas of my life: 1) That someone I love could somehow love me, and 2) that a remnant of the church is willing to live a holy and purposeful life.

Is it worse that these happen to be my most important pursuits, aside from God himself? It makes little difference that I can encourage my brothers and sisters in every other aspect of life if my greatest passions are riddled with negativity.

No state of being is detached from history. I'm certain my customer did not wake up this morning skeptical of the coffee industry. He was reacting to some negative experiences. Maybe it was three, or ten, or hundreds. Maybe he had been disappointed in far worse ways. Regardless of what led to his poisonous demeanor, he now expects the worst, and will draw quick (and sometimes false) conclusions to satisfy those expectations.

I brace myself for what feels like the inevitable. Since I perceive that every woman I've ever loved has rejected me, it's hard to enjoy a woman's company. I wait for the other shoe to drop. What initially began because of a couple scared, young girls that couldn't commit, has become an unshakable "truth" in my worldview, to the extent that I now help it along.

Forget the fact that I'm worth her admiration. Cast aside my intent to love and protect. As pure and noble as my heart is at the onset, I've convinced myself that it will never be enough to be wanted or desired. And if I push her away with my negativity, she only fulfills my prophecy for my life.

Yes, I view His church through the same lens. I love the Body in its purest form, but how many must I watch walk away when things get tough? Every expression of tough love or rebuke is perceived as an absence of care. If they have never been convinced through my recklessness that I truly love them, how can I expect them to remain steadfast under my leadership? Again, I wait for them to bail; when they do, I cannot feign surprise.

I know that I cannot change my heart alone. I pray that God would have enough grace to offer me a contrasting experience. I pray that she would stay; I plead that he would listen. I need this grace because I don't want to become the bitter, lonely, old man that was wronged by his beloved and his brothers in Christ. I need Him to establish a new identity: one that defies my weak faith. Would my Father be so gracious? Could I hope without doubt that He could be?