Thin Places, Laughter, and Coffee Gone Wrong
Ever had so full a brain that it causes you to become scatterbrained? In such times brains become too full with thoughts and ideas floating around to be able to think properly. Full brains may even cause a person to do something they will regret- such as accidentally putting salt in coffee. That was me on Tuesday- my brain was so full I somehow thought salt was sugar and put in in my drink. Yes, you read that correctly- I don't recommend it. It tastes awful. Never put salt in your coffee, even accidentally, and then proceed to drink it. I somehow thought it was a good idea.
Salty coffee could be a metaphor for life.
It's easy to be so caught up in something that it blinds you to your surroundings; caught up in your thoughts. If one is not careful they may miss out on nouns of vital importance to life. Deceptively sweet but in reality salty, we keep drinking even when it isn't good for us. We want so badly for it to be good that we miss the fact it's actually bad for us. So we chug on, trying desperately to ignore the taste it leaves in our mouth. Sometimes the best answer is to just get a whole new cup of coffee and start over again, from scratch, despite the embarrassment of having made a mistake. We learn and move on and, if possible, laugh.
Laughter is the best thing ever. It can be incredibly healing and it can leave you doubled up from crying with mirth. I like to think that Jesus laughed. I like to think there were moments with his disciples where there they are, gathered around this table, laughing so hard one of them snorts wine, sending them all into even wilder fits of mirth. This continues until they're all on the floor doubled over, gasping for air. Laughter is human and divine at the same time. It can be a thin place.
A thin place is one where a person experiences God, the divine, whatever sort of presence you may believe or not believe in; times of awe. These sorts of places can be anywhere- quiet time, a walk, the ocean, doing mundane chores, when you feel overwhelmed, in laughter. Anytime and anywhere.
I think thin places are especially present in our times of brokenness.
There was a thought I had the other day about thin places and brokenness, and it has to do with communion. The breaking of the bread. Let me repeat: the breaking of the bread. It broke. Jesus broke it. And then he shared it with his disciples, each of them taking a piece and eating it. This breaking was a thin place. Isn't it interesting how it had to be broken in order for them to be whole and in community with one another? Kind of like us- we start off whole and then along comes the salty coffee to break us, leading us to a thin place, if we so choose. If we choose it we find ourselves slowly being put back together into something new- never quite the same as before but nevertheless beautiful to behold. The cracks are now visible and part of the masterpiece that is us.
You don't have to be broken to experience the thin places. It's just that they are oftentimes more evident in times of brokenness than when all is well and they are more easily missed.
Salty coffee could be a metaphor for life.
It's easy to be so caught up in something that it blinds you to your surroundings; caught up in your thoughts. If one is not careful they may miss out on nouns of vital importance to life. Deceptively sweet but in reality salty, we keep drinking even when it isn't good for us. We want so badly for it to be good that we miss the fact it's actually bad for us. So we chug on, trying desperately to ignore the taste it leaves in our mouth. Sometimes the best answer is to just get a whole new cup of coffee and start over again, from scratch, despite the embarrassment of having made a mistake. We learn and move on and, if possible, laugh.
Laughter is the best thing ever. It can be incredibly healing and it can leave you doubled up from crying with mirth. I like to think that Jesus laughed. I like to think there were moments with his disciples where there they are, gathered around this table, laughing so hard one of them snorts wine, sending them all into even wilder fits of mirth. This continues until they're all on the floor doubled over, gasping for air. Laughter is human and divine at the same time. It can be a thin place.
A thin place is one where a person experiences God, the divine, whatever sort of presence you may believe or not believe in; times of awe. These sorts of places can be anywhere- quiet time, a walk, the ocean, doing mundane chores, when you feel overwhelmed, in laughter. Anytime and anywhere.
I think thin places are especially present in our times of brokenness.
There was a thought I had the other day about thin places and brokenness, and it has to do with communion. The breaking of the bread. Let me repeat: the breaking of the bread. It broke. Jesus broke it. And then he shared it with his disciples, each of them taking a piece and eating it. This breaking was a thin place. Isn't it interesting how it had to be broken in order for them to be whole and in community with one another? Kind of like us- we start off whole and then along comes the salty coffee to break us, leading us to a thin place, if we so choose. If we choose it we find ourselves slowly being put back together into something new- never quite the same as before but nevertheless beautiful to behold. The cracks are now visible and part of the masterpiece that is us.
You don't have to be broken to experience the thin places. It's just that they are oftentimes more evident in times of brokenness than when all is well and they are more easily missed.
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