God Never Forgets, Even if We Think He Has

I sat alone by the espresso maker in the church lobby.

As a first-time visitor to this church in Bend, Oregon, my nostrils were overwhelmed by the pungent coffee aroma, and my head throbbed from the continuous clash coming from the coffee machine. It hissed, gurgled, and produced copious amounts of steam like a struggling locomotive chugging up a steep hill. After a volunteer took someone’s personalized coffee order, a barista would bang a portafilter in the adjoining sink. My feet dangled hopelessly, and I swung them back and forth, waiting for Steve to return. Instead, I was surrounded by streams of people; some walked in front of me, behind me, and beside me, yet not seeing me sitting by myself. They were laughing, perhaps sharing jokes, hugging, talking about Jesus, or making lunch plans, plans that included family and friends, and still no one noticed me. Or so I thought. Read more