I'm not sure whether Java John's is my home-away-from-home or my office-away-from-my-office. Perhaps it is both. It is where all of my sermons are written, and where I soothe bad days or bleary-eyed mornings with (at this point) countless peanut butter chocolate chip muffin tops.
It used to be the underdog coffee shop in town. I say that because it was the place more often filled with my parishioners and with local folks, rather than college students, hipsters, and visitors to town. There were three types of people who went to Java John's.
1. The big groups who reserved the back room or reading room: groups of retired women who had gone to high school together, the local radio lady who interviewed people about the week's goings-on around town, the high school Bible study, my pastor-friend Laura and her usual band of parishioners from the UCC congregation.
2. The lingerers: people who claimed the few booths and tables for work or conversation, most of us regulars who hung out there at least a few times a week.
3. The grab-and-goers: with a quick and easy to-go coffee setup, lots of folks merely passed through; even those ordering elaborate drinks were more often than not on their way somewhere else.
At the turn of the year, ownership shifted hands to a new partnership, and some renovations took place, some walls came down, some new paint went up, a new counter and pastry case went in, and all of the sudden, the grab-and-goers have become lingerers, and the place can best be described as bustling. Still extraordinarily friendly and welcoming. A little new, a little different, not bad, not better, just going from nice to nice.
It hadn't taken Mary very long to get to know my name when I first moved here, and it hasn't taken Andrew very long to know my name, either. I'm not sure whether it feels like I know celebrities or whether it feels like I must go out for coffee too much, that both owners have gotten to know who I am!
Sunday morning, I flew through on my way to church, to grab a much-needed Americano for me, plus a big cup of dark roast for Chad, my fellow pastor on staff.
Andrew was leaning on the counter, talking to Mike who was working behind it. He looked up at me as I came in, said "hello," and then informed me that my outfit was "fantastic." It was my usual winter pastor uniform: clergy collar, sweater, skirt, tall boots. Not sure what on this particular day made it fantastic, but it was a pretty nice way to start my Sunday.
Mike asked me if I was preaching that morning, and I said yes.
Andrew, the son of an Episcopal priest father, asked me what I was preaching about.
Let me be clear about something: no matter how friendly people are to you as a pastor, no matter how willing they are to ask you things like "how are things at church?" or "have I told you about my own pastor/church/sister's church/random church I visited on vacation?", they never - NEVER - actually ask you about your sermons. Even when I park myself at Java John's with coffee and a computer to write sermons, the most anyone ever says is, "Working on your sermon, eh? Hope it goes well!"
So when I was asked, with genuine interest, what I was planning to preach about, I had to squash the impulse to give a dismissive answer, or to pretend that it wasn't important.
"Well, the first reading is from Jonah, and it's the second time God calls him, because the first time he ran away and ended up getting swallowed by a fish. And the Gospel reading is about Jesus walking along the lakeshore, calling the first disciples. So we're going to talk about our own senses of call, and the way that God calls us to live and act in the world."
Mike, from behind the counter, himself a pastor in another life, remarked that the story of Jonah is a really great story. And as I grabbed my two coffee cups to head out to church, both men wished me well and wished me blessings on my morning.
For as much as I think I wear my pastoral identity when I'm out and about, for as much as anyone at Java John's (or anywhere) knows that I'm a pastor, this was a morning when it wasn't just a label or an identity or a distinguishing characteristic, like a mole or a hairstyle or a fashion sense. This was a morning where my being pastor was something interesting, worthwhile, real.
Affirmation and caffeination. The best way to start a Sunday morning.
It used to be the underdog coffee shop in town. I say that because it was the place more often filled with my parishioners and with local folks, rather than college students, hipsters, and visitors to town. There were three types of people who went to Java John's.
1. The big groups who reserved the back room or reading room: groups of retired women who had gone to high school together, the local radio lady who interviewed people about the week's goings-on around town, the high school Bible study, my pastor-friend Laura and her usual band of parishioners from the UCC congregation.
2. The lingerers: people who claimed the few booths and tables for work or conversation, most of us regulars who hung out there at least a few times a week.
3. The grab-and-goers: with a quick and easy to-go coffee setup, lots of folks merely passed through; even those ordering elaborate drinks were more often than not on their way somewhere else.
At the turn of the year, ownership shifted hands to a new partnership, and some renovations took place, some walls came down, some new paint went up, a new counter and pastry case went in, and all of the sudden, the grab-and-goers have become lingerers, and the place can best be described as bustling. Still extraordinarily friendly and welcoming. A little new, a little different, not bad, not better, just going from nice to nice.
It hadn't taken Mary very long to get to know my name when I first moved here, and it hasn't taken Andrew very long to know my name, either. I'm not sure whether it feels like I know celebrities or whether it feels like I must go out for coffee too much, that both owners have gotten to know who I am!
Sunday morning, I flew through on my way to church, to grab a much-needed Americano for me, plus a big cup of dark roast for Chad, my fellow pastor on staff.
Andrew was leaning on the counter, talking to Mike who was working behind it. He looked up at me as I came in, said "hello," and then informed me that my outfit was "fantastic." It was my usual winter pastor uniform: clergy collar, sweater, skirt, tall boots. Not sure what on this particular day made it fantastic, but it was a pretty nice way to start my Sunday.
Mike asked me if I was preaching that morning, and I said yes.
Andrew, the son of an Episcopal priest father, asked me what I was preaching about.
Let me be clear about something: no matter how friendly people are to you as a pastor, no matter how willing they are to ask you things like "how are things at church?" or "have I told you about my own pastor/church/sister's church/random church I visited on vacation?", they never - NEVER - actually ask you about your sermons. Even when I park myself at Java John's with coffee and a computer to write sermons, the most anyone ever says is, "Working on your sermon, eh? Hope it goes well!"
So when I was asked, with genuine interest, what I was planning to preach about, I had to squash the impulse to give a dismissive answer, or to pretend that it wasn't important.
"Well, the first reading is from Jonah, and it's the second time God calls him, because the first time he ran away and ended up getting swallowed by a fish. And the Gospel reading is about Jesus walking along the lakeshore, calling the first disciples. So we're going to talk about our own senses of call, and the way that God calls us to live and act in the world."
Mike, from behind the counter, himself a pastor in another life, remarked that the story of Jonah is a really great story. And as I grabbed my two coffee cups to head out to church, both men wished me well and wished me blessings on my morning.
For as much as I think I wear my pastoral identity when I'm out and about, for as much as anyone at Java John's (or anywhere) knows that I'm a pastor, this was a morning when it wasn't just a label or an identity or a distinguishing characteristic, like a mole or a hairstyle or a fashion sense. This was a morning where my being pastor was something interesting, worthwhile, real.
Affirmation and caffeination. The best way to start a Sunday morning.