Starbucks Sightings

Today I've been roaming about Tacoma while my car is being worked on and my friends are getting manis and pedis with their mom. It's super nice and warm outside, went for a long walk earlier with Jenn and Anne. Fun timez.

At the moment, I'm sitting at Starbucks outside (drinking from my own water bottle HA.) and there is a group of 4 adults (3 african-american women, 1 white man) and a few kids I think are sitting by them, on the corner of a busy street holding signs that say, "Honk if you love the Lord," and, "WAKE UP! Jesus died for you!"

I want to ask what their purpose is, but that's when my introvert-ism comes in.

There's also a couple guys sitting at my... 4o'clock? I'm bad with the time-compass comparison. Let's say 4:18. AM or PM? Does that matter? I don't think so... Anyway, they're talking about how they already talked to these people and something something blah blah blah. One of the guys was saying how he's planning on going to check out a baptist church tomorrow to see what they're like. I think I've been to a baptist church before, at least just a youth group once. It was super hi-tech, strobe lights and black lights, loud rock music to get high schoolers interested in talking about God and less focused on the cute boy next to them. I can't remember if I liked the message or not, I think I was more focused on hanging out with my friend who invited me. Oh well.

(Update: A lot of people are honking who are driving by these people with signs.)

Now I'm torn between asking what these people are up to and just sitting here, writing about nothing. Maybe I'll wait until they've finished their salads and chip bags. Maybe I just won't ask. Eavesdropping is my main form of figuring out what's going on, but they seem to be just far enough away where the sounds of the cars driving by and their honking drowns out the voices.

(Update: The kids sitting next to them are now screaming every time someone honks.)

Maybe I would approach them if they looked more welcoming and friendly. I hope people don't think that about me...

I always wonder what people think when they see this big tattoo on my shoulder. Do they think I'm just another girl who "put a bird on it" and wanted some pretty flowers on her? When people ask me what my tattoos are about, and I tell them it's from the Bible or it's a cross, 9 times out of 10 people recoil and make a weird noise resembling, "Oh that's cool..." and either tell me the total of my transaction or give a forced, constipated-like smile and look the other way. My friend told me I should say instead, "It's something Jesus said," when talking about my shoulder tattoo (Matthew 6:25-34... I had to look at the reference on my collarbone to remember what it was, how embarrassing.) because maybe people would react better to someone who follows Jesus than to someone who might just follow the Bible? I'm not sure. I'll try it and let you know.

(Update: One of the guys sitting near me just asked the other one, "Would you rather fight a velociraptor or a t-rex?" I didn't hear the answer. Fiddlesticks.)

Sometimes when I go to coffee shops, I sit my Bible on my table hoping someone will ask me about it. Well, part of me is nervous about what they might ask, but part of me wants the chance to let the Holy Spirit talk through me to someone who needs it. Unfortunately today, I am a boob and didn't bring my Bible with me to Tac. Dern it.

Well, if I grow a pair and go talk to these people, I'll let you know, cause I know you care.

We Want More, We Want More

Have you seen that commercial? I have no clue what it's about, but I love it. Are they scripted or are those kids just inherently hilarious? I wish I was that funny.

Well, I do want more. More of what, I don't know, but I want more. Definitely not more clothes or food or craft supplies. I want more adventure. More opportunities to help people.

I went to the Hillsong United concert the other night. While waiting in the line that wrapped all the way around the building about one and a half times, I wanted to cry. Partly because I was alone in line, and partly because it was s o  l o n g . I thought I might die in that line, honestly. I wanted to give up and spend the $20 in my pocket at the Starbucks down the street. I ended up staying in the line because I had already spent $35 on my ticket, and I deserved a good show.

Well, it was no Kim Walker-Smith, but there were a few tears shed and many smiles from me during the show. I really enjoyed the song "Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)" and another song talking about how Jesus is all I need.

I really want Jesus to be all I need, but He's definitely not. I need new shorts and tanks for summer, I need cute plants to decorate my sad apartment, I need chocolate to satisfy these lady-like cravings. And yeah, I need Jesus too. During this song, my heart wanted to pray that Jesus would make Himself be all I need, that I would be somehow put in a position where I actually realize He's all I need. My thoughts flew to Africa and India and the Middle East, and part of me wanted to be in their shoes, or, for the sake of this post, lack thereof. I want to just need Jesus because He's all I have, all I could ever even hope for. It feels like I could say more about this, but I'm just not sure what that is.

The other song, "Oceans", really got to me, as it did a lot of others I suspect. First off, the girl's voice is D Y N A M I T E and somehow belongs to a tiny person, so that's legit. Second, the lyrics just made me want to leave and be pushed to the end of my rope. I've been living off this high for the last couple days and can't get my mind away from the simple fact that I want my faith to be stretched so far, I want to be used to help/love/save/comfort, I want to GO.

I have no idea where this is, when, how, who. I got nothin'. But God is definitely stirring something in my heart and I know there's something out there that's going to be more satisfying than working at Starbucks or customer service or babysitting.

I'm thankful that God chooses to use us for His purpose and to draw people to Him.

a w e s o m e .