So this morning (Sunday morning), I went to Starbucks to get coffee for my wife. The church we attend has a break between services, so I went to get her coffee and a multi-grain bagel.
The place was packed. The six or so Starbucks’ employees that were working behind the counter were swamped. One customer was upset because he was still waiting for his cheese danish. Most of the chairs and tables were taken. People were meeting with friends; laptops were everywhere.
Before I placed my order, something came over me. I felt a profound burden to speak to the whole room:
“Hey! Forgive me for interrupting you folks, but I’ve got a critical question to ask you. Are you ready?”
People looked nervous. Nobody speaks to the whole group gathered in a Starbucks! Who was this kook?, they probably thought to themselves. Some of the men looked like they were examining me for a hidden weapon of some kind.
“Why aren’t you people in church?! There are a lot of good churches within a couple of miles of here. Has Starbucks become your church?”
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that one of the baristas was on the phone, probably calling the police. I knew my opportunity would soon be over.
“Folks, I’m not trying to be offensive, But shouldn’t all of you be in a church of some kind, worshiping the Lord Jesus for all He’s done for you? He died for your sins. As the Creator, He’s the One who gives you the next lungful of air that you breathe. Unless you’re on a break from your church like me, what are you doing here?!”
As I looked over this group of about thirty people, there were a few whose faces looked very angry. I had disturbed their Sunday morning quiet time at Starbucks. One or two looked, well, almost remorseful. Maybe they had given up on the church a long time ago, but the truth of Jesus’ giving His life for them seemed to rush back to their minds. The rest, to be honest, were each dialing 9-1-1.
Then I saw the flashing lights outside. As the police officer came in and gently led me to his patrol car, I thought, “Wait! I forgot to get the coffee and bagel for my wife!”
Friends: Just so you know, this did not happen. But I thought about it. And I know my friend Bruce (a former preacher-turned-atheist) who sometimes reads my blog would say, “Why in the world did you think you had the right to interrupt those people with your silly message? They didn’t ask you, did they?!”
And he would be right. No one asked me to break into their peaceful moment at Starbucks with the gospel. But what if I did?
[Your comments welcome below]
about 8 Starbuck mugs in our kitchen cabinet. We are both gold members (which means we get free refills). We’ve learned the specialized vocabulary: “grande,” “venti,” “machiatto,” “barista,” “skinny” (I never use this one), “latte,” or, my favorite: “
I have enjoyed studying and writing at Starbucks, although it can be a loud environment (unless I bring my earphones). I once wrote a short story about a customer’s habit of eavesdropping on other people’s conversations which you can read 
the other day. I ordered a “grande bold, room for cream.” Linda stepped up to the counter (we both order separately so we can get our individual stars) and said, “grande Christmas blend, no room for coffee!” The barista looked at her and laughed. She meant to say “no room for cream.”
to preach. My lovely wife Linda has taken all the travel mugs to her job, so I was looking to buy a new travel mug if they had some on sale.
The gentleman waiting on me said that if I bought a pumpkin spice latte (our favorite!), they would sell me a nice travel mug for 1/2 price. I agree and had to go out to my car for a couple of extra dollars to pay for the 
He said, “It’s on us. Enjoy.” There’s a great difference between a 
Dr. Larry Dixon
larrydixon.wordpress.com 