Church Voices

So I’m sitting here at iHop. It is 3:30 a.m. People are loud. Dishes are crashing and the service is slow. The restaurant is understaffed; they had no idea it would be this crowded at this hour. Scurrying station to station, making sure they maintain their composure under the stress of the unanticipated business. A man beckons in disgrace. The waitress mistakenly makes eye contact; now she can’t safely ignore what she knows will be doggish treatment. She walks away with a new request to add to the ever-growing list of tasks to accomplish in an ever-diminishing amount of time. She glances at her watch—only 6 more hours until she’ll see her baby wake for a new day. To many, this is a place of refuge.

A cool draft makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. The door is opened and a group of five stumble in. The back of my seat shakes as the new guests work their way into the booth conveniently next to mine. Lewd jokes absent of a punch line become the subject of doltish laughter which takes captive the subtle murmur of before. A clumsy and asinine demeanor reminds me of the place I thought I was away from. Well, the bars do close at 3:00. To many, this is a place of refuge.

My attention is stolen by a couple of kids sitting across the isle. Their faces switch back and forth from hearty laugher to a show of serious concern. I assemble the broken pieces of their mutual exchange of thoughts about a better world. They act as if something is actually worth caring about. I return to my food and try to block out the mindless chatter behind me. All of the sudden their cackling is halted by the silence coming from the couple across the isle. I turn my head to see their hands joined and heads bowed. To many, this is a place of refuge.

[God] is a refuge for the poor, a refuge for the needy in his distress, a shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat…even at iHop during the middle of the night.

For He who watches over you will not slumber.