I haven’t run out of Africa stories yet, but I’d like to take a short break (commercial interruption?) to stop telling you what’s happened in the past and let you know what’s happening right now in the present.
I am a waitress.
It’s the word I write in the blank under “job description” on official forms. It’s easier than trying to explain anything else.
It’s not the sort of word you hear a lot when you ask, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
But I’ve been a waitress for the past three years.
It was never really supposed to be this long. Believe me. I’ve had all sorts of conversations with God about the subject. Still, for every time I leave the States, my waitressing job is waiting for me when I come back. Somewhere in the middle of all those plane rides, I stopped telling God I needed a different job and starting asking Him why He still had me in this one.
Waitressing isn’t exactly a dream come true.
Surprised?
It’s actually quite frustrating. You may not hear the swear words out in the dining room, but - believe me - we get a whole lot of them back in the kitchen. It’s high stress. People treat you like dirt, all for the sake of an over-cooked steak or a salad that’s too small. And your fellow workers might always smile for the customers, but that doesn’t mean they’re always smiling for you.
Last week, I was reading some verses while driving to work. I Corinthians 4:8-13 to be exact. Emphasis on verse 12: “We work hard with our hands. When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it.”
I thought about the apostles and how many enemies they had to bless and wondered if I had any enemies cursing me that I could bless. I couldn’t think of any off the top of my head.
Then I got to work.
You know how some people are easy to like, and other people are a lot harder to like? I have a hard time liking one of the bartenders at work. I don’t know drinks very well, and he’s a genius at it. So, I mess up a lot. I ask stupid questions. And every time I make a mistake, this particular bartender is sure to let me know about it.
“Why didn’t you ask what kind of gin they wanted?" "Your drinks have been here for ten minutes. Why'd it take you so long?" "Don’t you know how to open a bottle of wine without breaking the cork?”
It’s hard to bless someone when he’s talking to you like this. Especially when, meanwhile, two tables are waiting for you to take their order, the cooks are yelling at you to pick up your food for the third table, and a fourth table is wanting to pay their bill right now.
When life’s like that, it’s hard to hear criticism from the bartender.
When life’s like that, it’s even harder to bless the bartender who’s criticizing you.
And yet Paul clearly says in I Corinthians, “When we are cursed, we bless.”
This is one of the lessons God’s teaching me these days. A lesson He figures gets hashed out pretty well in the waitressing world. (I’m inclined to agree with Him.) It doesn’t mean He’s ignoring me or forgotten about me or stuck me on a top shelf because He got tired of looking at me. It means He is my teacher whether I’m a missionary or a waitress. It means He wants me to obey whether we’re talking about a plane ticket or a strawberry daiquiri. It means the God who was good when I was singing for kids in a brick church in Africa is still good while I’m rushing drinks to an impatient table in Nebraska.
"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."
