I’m sitting at Rooster’s Roasters, an overtly Christian coffeeshop in Cedar Park, Texas. The total cost of my order – a 20-ounce, quadruple-shot mocha (my recent usual) – came out to $6.66. The girl behind the counter said, “That’s an awful number! Especially for this shop.” I had thought the same thing and said that number should be deleted from their system altogether. She was happy to add my tip to the total. When she brought my drink to me, I christened it the Evil Mocha.
For my friends, it would seem a little odd to find me frequenting a Christian-owned coffeeshop with pictures of Jesus and boards with quotes from the Bible extolling the virtue of hard work hanging about. But it isn’t weird to me. Most American businesses are Christian-owned. This one just happens to be blatant about it. And, who knows? Maybe they’re a nonprofit that donates their funds not just to a church but to other community-building efforts? More power to them.
Now, I was once told by a divinity school graduate that if you see a fish-looking symbol of Christ at a mechanic’s shop, prepare to be screwed. Doesn’t seem to apply so much to coffeeshops.
On the other side of the spectrum, though, I did find a stack of Jews for Jesus flyers at the VA hospital in Temple on Friday. I took them to the desk and suggested they remove them in the event someone looking for a nice civil rights lawsuit sees them.
One final thing, and this is unrelated to any of the above, but regarding last week’s shooting at Fort Hood, I think we have to keep in mind the large population of the post. It is a city unto itself — both in the size of its population and its land mass. Shootings happen everyday due to reasons other than mental illness or terrorism. At a place the size of a city, it can’t be too surprising it happened. Overall, I feel much safer on military installations. Always have.
As The Washington Post wrote,
Although bases such as Fort Hood contain large storehouses of armaments, and many of their inhabitants have spent years at war, military posts are usually among the most idyllic communities in the country, a throwback to the 1950s, with manicured lawns, drivers who conscientiously abide by the speed limit and parents unafraid to allow their children to frolic out of sight.