Today I took the boys to Chick-Fil-A for lunch. We already have a “no sodas” policy but since the Maker is just coming off a stomach virus I told all three boys in the car before we got there that none of us would have french fries, either. So when we arrived, I asked each of them whether they wanted a chicken sandwich or nuggets. Only the First seemed fretful. “What is it,” I finally asked, exasperated that it was our turn and still he couldn’t decide. “We aren’t getting fries,” he told me, upset, “and just a sandwich won’t be enough. I won’t be full.”
And it was one of those moments in history where time stopped, and the Holy Spirit descended in force upon me, and I preached an entire sermon, maybe my best ever, the words just tumbling out of my mouth in perfect, perfect clarity: “You don’t have to be full,” God said with my mouth.
And the heavenly hosts sang Alleluia! just like in Handel’s Messiah. It was honestly like that.
The really freaky part was that the First seemed to hear this (God’s words, not the angels singing). He said, “Sandwich, please,” and I ordered them, and we ate and were satisfied.
Consider this, America, consider this.