Why The Church Is More Like Waffle House Than Outback

One of my and my husband’s favorite places to eat is Waffle House. Don’t judge. Of course, we enjoy all the wonderful food, not least of all, the syrupy delicious waffles, but it’s not just about the meal. Truth be told, it’s more about the atmosphere. I’ve told him before that I would like to work at Waffle House for a day. It seems like such a great avenue to meet people, and minister God’s grace day to day.

Let’s just be honest. People who frequent Waffle House know what they’re going to get. Good food cooked and served by real people. They know it’s not Outback. They don’t expect catchy slogans or meals named after exotic places. They come for the experience.

Let’s talk about the atmosphere. Again, people who frequent Waffle House don’t expect to be seated by a hostess wearing an evening gown. It’s more of a, “Come in, and make yourself at home. I’ll get to you as quick as I can,” kind of place. Some mornings there is lots of joking and laughter. Other mornings, the atmosphere is quite tense. Take our last visit, for example. The tension was thick. There were lots of dynamics at play.      

One regular patron commented to the egg cook about being short staffed. That’s all the tall servant needed to turn around and engage in 15 second’s worth of conversation. “Bruh,” he said, hanging his head and shaking it at the same time. “BRUH,” he emphasized his frustration with a smile on his face, “Short staffed everywhere.” I had caught a glimpse of his kind but stressed personality as he turned back to his labor.

The hash brown/toast/pancake lady was the apparent veteran. She was harnessing every ounce of scathing reproach that she longed to unleash upon the bacon lady and the hostess’s lackluster performance. 

The untitled servant seemed to have no official designation, but was best at being directly in the path of every other employee. Her skill set seemed to be in the area of helps because her very presence kept them all swerving, dodging, eye rolling and blinking in rapid fire precision.

I feel a bit guilty to admit that I enjoyed every minute of this observation, all the while enjoying my perfectly cooked breakfast. I would have also enjoyed chatting with each of them, and giving them a word of encouragement. Unfortunately, none of them had time to stop from their labors, and even in all the tension, they worked as a team, and provided the service the patrons had come to expect.

The Church is a bit more like Waffle House than Outback. It’s staffed with real people who, just like you and me, are pressed on every side with the stresses of life, yet doing their job admirably 99% of the time. 

When you come into the Church, don’t expect it to be perfect. Instead, enjoy the atmosphere, and the good spiritual food cooked by real people…Oh, and compliment the staff when you have the opportunity.

“But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me.” (Luke 10:40)

What’s In Your Hand?

So often we feel too inadequate to be beneficial to the Kingdom. We think about all that others seemingly have that we don’t. Talents, giftings, finances, more free time, great singing voice, people connections, charismatic personality.

The list goes on and on, even though Paul taught, “…measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise.” (2 Corinthians 10:12)

The truth is God just needs you to be willing to be used. He can and will use anything that you make available to Him.

When Moses was afraid to go speak to Pharaoh, and lead the Children of Israel, God used what he already had in his hand to work miracles. What’s in your hand, Moses? Just this stick that I use to walk with. Great! I can use that!

When Jesus wanted to feed the 5,000, and there was no way to get food, he used what a young boy carried in his hand. What’s in your hand, son? Just this sack lunch my mom made me. Great! I can use that!

We need to stop fretting over what we don’t have, and figure out what we do have. Each of us has something, even if we think it’s not much.

What is it that you like to do as a hobby? Can you make that and sell it to raise money for Global Missions?

What’s that in your hand? A paint brush? Great! Can you paint Sunday School posters, or do art with the kids in Sunday School?

What’s that in your hand? Brownies? Great! Can you make several batches of those and deliver them to new families in the community with church business cards taped on top?

What’s in YOUR hand? Great! God can use that. It’s just up to you to be willing.

“And the Lord said unto him, What is that in thine hand? And he said, A rod.” (Exodus 4:2)

“There is a lad here, which hath five barley loaves, and two small fishes: but what are they among so many?” (John 6:9)

GUEST POST by: Katie Davis The Opportunity of Singleness

Photo by icon0.com from Pexels

There is a stigma among women today where many think ministry doesn’t begin until they are married to a “preacher.” They wait around their whole lives, praying that God would send a “good man” to them and they forget the mandate Christ gave us in the New Testament to spread the Gospel to the whole world.

Another scripture they tend to forget is 1 Corinthians 7:34, “There is difference also between a wife and a virgin. The unmarried woman careth for the things of the Lord, that she may be holy both in body and in spirit: but she that is married careth for the things of the world, how she may please her husband.”

Every day we young ladies are bombarded with how we should look, dress, walk, talk, style our hair and what type of man we should marry to achieve life-long happiness. Society tries to dictate to us what should be most important. As Christians, our first and foremost responsibility should be to follow Christ and obey His word. We know from another portion of scripture that in doing so, “these things will be added unto you.” (Matt. 6:33)

When we put God’s agenda before our own, He will add to us the things our hearts desire such as a husband or children. He is simply wanting us to be wise with our seasons of singleness.

Singleness is a unique blessing given to us in which we grow emotionally and mentally while learning to depend on God as our relationship deepens with Him. Like the scripture said, as a single person we have more time and energy to focus directly on the will of God for our lives. 

Does it hurt to be alone sometimes? Yes, especially those of us who have been married before. Getting used to being alone and allowing God to fill the void in our hearts takes time and effort, something of which we might not have if we are more focused on a spouse or family. 

So, knowing singleness is important, what can we as young, single women do with that singleness for God?

We can TEACH BIBLE STUDIES. Helping disciple new converts or witnessing to non-believers is one of the most rewarding things. Not only are you continuing to learn and deepen your understanding of the Word by teaching, but you are planting seeds of faith or watering others already planted so God can bring the increase. This is a sure way of laying up your treasure in heaven.

We can START SMALL GROUPS. Who doesn’t know someone who needs community and a safe place to go when they’re struggling? I know as a grown woman life is hard, especially after a divorce. Some of my healing didn’t come until I met a small group of friends who accepted me for who I was in my broken state and loved me through it.

We can VOLUNTEER in almost any capacity. Food banks, sewing circles, fundraisers, youth trips, Sunday School, nursery, praise team, etc. Being available will not only show your leadership how dedicated you are but will also show the members of your church how invested and willing you are in working with them to grow the kingdom of God.

We can BECOME EDUCATED. A close friend of mine took the small group to another level and has finished several collegiate degrees in counseling. She is working to educate the church on dealing with victims of depression, trauma, and other life-altering mental illnesses. 

We can SUPPORT MISSIONS or go on missions trips. So many of our local entrepreneurs donate a percentage of their funds to help support local and foreign missionaries. Other single women go on missions trips to various places to help work that area and provide support to the missionaries they encounter. Not only does this help the missionary, but their hearts and lives are forever changed by working the field. 

These things I’ve listed are certainly not the limits to what we can do as single women serving a life dedicated to Christ, but they are very good starting points for allowing God to order our steps and make known His will for us. In the process, it may lead us to that man we’ve prayed for or the family we hope to one day have, or even the job we’ve dreamed of. 

Don’t let your singleness be an excuse to put making a difference on pause. If you want to be happy and live a fulfilled life right now, take the limits off God and put your spiritual work clothes on and get started adding to His kingdom, so He can add to you all the blessings He has stored up waiting for you. -Katie Davis

I’m honored to be able to share the ministry of my friend, Katie Davis. Katie attends LifePoint Pentecostal Church in Pulaski, Tennessee, pastored by Dusty and LaTasha Frierson. She is very involved there as a young minister, Worship Leader and Youth Pastor.Katie stays busy using her many talents for the Lord -teaching, preaching, speaking, writing, and studying to become a licensed UPCI Minister. -Pat Vick

You can email Katie at: Davk1227@gmail.com

Katie Davis

Beyond The Veil: Ministering in the Gulf States

Omani Men Working Their Nets /Photo Credit: Pat Vick


“And Abraham said unto God,
O that Ishmael might live before thee!” (Genesis 17:18)

We had anticipated this trip for months with mixed emotions. We had heard it over and over, “You’re going where?!” The exclamation mark that ended our preparations and began our final and longest leg of travel to the Gulf States happened in the bowels of the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport, as we were about to board our Etihad Airlines flight.

Flanked on every side by men in white robes and head wraps, and women in black abayas and hijabs, our emotions were on high alert. Looking to foster a sense of camaraderie, my husband casually asked a fellow traveller if he was going to be on this flight. Unfortunately, his response of, “NO, I’m not getting on that plane!” did nothing to alleviate our tension, and just like that, we were off to the Gulf States.

After flying through the night, we arrived Wednesday at midnight, exhausted, and very relieved to see the Worker’s smiling face there to welcome us. He loaded our luggage into his SFC vehicle and drove us to his home to get some sleep.

Early the next morning, we woke to a myriad of new sights, sounds, and smells, assuring us that our long journey had not been a dream. The Muslim call to prayer broke the predawn hush, sounding completely foreign to our ears.

Our senses were overloaded as we got out for some sightseeing on Thursday. We spent the day getting acclimated, touring downtown, the market and the local mall. We saw beautiful architecture the likes we had never seen before, and a vast desert landscape resembling a windswept canvas. Transposed against the muted earth tones of the desert, and the stark black and white robes, were the vibrant colors of the people’s zeal for living. Plush rugs, cashmere scarves, fringed veils, and always the aroma of incense wafting in the air. Amber, Jasmine, Frankincense.

Over all, we saw people going about their daily lives. Even though the unfamiliarity of their wardrobe and language seemed strange, seeing families with their children in tow, while they shopped for groceries and other household necessities, helped us to put things in perspective. People are people all over the world.

People are people all over the world. Share on X

As darkness fell on Thursday night, it was time for our first service. It was to be a preliminary meeting for the official anniversary service that would be the next morning. Anxiety, that had been dispelled through the day, snaked back into our minds, as we wondered how we could have service in such a closed place.

Several people, dressed in traditional attire, walked by in front of us as we crossed the street to enter the rented building. At this point, we simply had to trust the Workers’ judgement, who were living and raising their family here.

You might expect that we found a pitiful group of worshippers, huddled together in whispered prayer, fearfully looking over their shoulders. You would be mistaken. This group of 30-40 believers welcomed us with joyful embraces and hand shakes. They listened intently as the Word was delivered, and worshipped afterward with zealous abandon.

The keyboard, drums and electric guitars were just as loud as any back home. We cast several questioning glances at the Workers, to which they simply smiled and continued their enthusiastic worship. We had no choice but to trust and enjoy the atmosphere of pure praise. Later, it was explained to us that the platform and windows were lined with sound reducing material, which kept much of the sound localized and muted to the outside.

Friday morning, which is the religious day in this area of the world, we gathered in a banquet room of a local restaurant. To the Believers, it was their sixth anniversary service. To everyone else, it was just another festive occasion, complete with decorations and a buffet afterwards. Once again, the worship was unrestrained, and this time, there was no soundproofing to buffer the enthusiasm. This small group knew how to throw a great “party,” as seventeen people received the Spirit!

Afterward, as we gathered for the meal, several of the Workers’ local friends joined us for fellowship. The women talked about raising babies, and the men spoke of their shared interest in business and farming. There was much that went unsaid among the group, but was understood nevertheless. I looked around the table at the diversity of nationalities, cultures, languages, and was in awe of the privilege to be in this moment. As I was pondering what it all meant, and where it would lead, a young Muslim wife, dressed in her black abaya and head covering, walked around the table to where I was sitting, knelt at my feet, and presented me with the gift of a beautiful bracelet that she had brought from her village. She held my gaze with her dark henna eyes, as she offered me her friendship. I wondered, if the roles were reversed, would I have offered the same to her?

Location-1 was outgrowing its borders. Forty to fifty Believers are all that can congregate together without drawing undue attention. The Workers took us to see a fifth floor apartment, which had been newly acquired for a second meeting place. We were thrilled to learn that one of the rooms was to be used to start the first Word School in the country. Again, this facility was padded with extra thick carpet, a lifted platform, sound reducing material packed into the windows, and heavy drapes. As you read this, Location-2 is thriving, and working toward a third location in the city.

We traveled south by plane to a more remote city for another assemblies’ one year anniversary service. Location-1 had been flying two people weekly for a year to this city in order to establish, teach and stabilize this daughter work.

We stayed in a beautiful hotel where the group assembled in a banquet room each week. We were definitely not going to blend in here, where everyone that we passed in the hallways was dressed in their traditional attire. Once again, we asked ourselves how we could possibly have a service in this clearly closed place.

The next morning we awakened to rhythmic percussion and voices lifted to lively music. The banquet room was a few doors down, and these Believers were apparently very serious about their praise team practice. My husband and I looked at one another in disbelief, and I said what proved to be prophetic, “You know they’re only going to get louder.”

Once again, we had a powerful celebration service, complete with music, decorations, and a buffet filled with food. Sixteen new Believers were Spirit filled in that service, making a total of thirty-three new babies in all. Most of these were immersed in the Only Saving Name at a later time, after we and the Workers had left.

Although we have a long list of personal stories we could tell about the people we met, one most reflects the hearts of the people we encountered. My husband and the Worker went out for a few hours on a guy excursion to visit a nearby camel farm. As they wandered up, uninvited and unannounced, there was a group of shabab (young men) in their late teens and early twenties hanging out, as youth do.

My husband’s spiritual sensors immediately went on alert as he wondered how he would be received. He had no need to worry. Hospitality permeates even the culture of their young people. The young men welcomed them into their tent, made them hot tea, which they drank while sitting on the floor, talking, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. My husband was even treated to a free camel ride, which he may or may not have fallen off of.

We think often of the man in the airport, at the beginning of our journey, who reacted with such hostility at the thought of boarding “that plane.” When we juxtapose that image alongside these young men’s hospitality, and the memory of my new friend on her knees at my feet, offering a gift, our hearts are saddened to realize the majority of the people we know and love will never have the opportunity to overcome their fear, and come to know these precious people.

I have heard that the Total Immersion Technique is the most productive when learning a new language. This is exactly what we experienced. We were totally immersed in the culture of the Gulf States. In twelve days, we went from being anxious and awkward, to loving these people like family. The sights, sounds, smells and faces, once so foreign, are forever part of us. We will continue to carry the people they represent with us, and lift them up in prayer. Their story has become ours, and we are honored to be able to tell it for them.

Warm Regards, -Pat Vick

As always, feel free to leave a comment, share to social media, SUBSCRIBE to my newsletter, and email me: Pat@PATVICK.COM.

*NOTE: This article was previously published in the May/June 2017 issue of The Pentecostal VOICE of Tennessee magazine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a Bike, a Pool and a Cross

When I was a little girl, I didn’t want anyone teaching me how to do anything new. Not because I was too independent, but because I was too shy to try in front of anyone and possibly fail. Since the most meaningful and fulfilling endeavors in life take a lot of trying, I’ve spent a lot of my lifetime in excruciating embarrassment. 

I remember two learning adventures from my childhood when the adults thought I needed to learn a new skill. The first was learning to ride a bicycle. My foster dad did all the right things. He held on tight and walked beside, letting me find my balance. He sped up to a fast trot, and I peddled my chubby little legs harder. We were zipping along now. Don’t let go! Of course, he couldn’t keep holding on. Legs can’t go as fast as wheels. All was going well for a few seconds, until I began to hear yelling. What were they yelling? Turn! Turn! I looked up and saw the tree, but couldn’t make my arms respond to the instructions. I was locked in. I didn’t turn.

Not surprisingly, that lesson ended painfully and with much embarrassment. I did eventually master bicycle riding, however. Those few seconds of feeling the wind in my face were enough to make me practice in private until I could stay up on my own. The cause was greater than the embarrassment.

The second learning adventure was much like the first. The adults thought I needed to learn how to swim. Again, my foster dad was tasked with the duty. There we were in the pool. He finally coaxed me into letting him hold me up on top of the water so that he could teach me how to float on my back. I can still remember his hands solid against my upper and lower back, the sun warming my front. I had barely started to relax when I felt his hands gently turn loose. Of course they were only an inch beneath me, but I didn’t know that. My body, which had only seconds before felt so light and unencumbered, now felt like a rock. I was sinking. There was thrashing and flailing and coughing and crying.

That lesson also ended traumatically with much embarrassment. I did, however, eventually master the art of swimming. Those few seconds of delightful buoyancy were enough to make me go to the kiddy pool by myself and practice in six inches of water until I felt myself lift up off the hard bottom. The cause was greater than the embarrassment.

Today, all grown up, I’m still that same little girl inside, extremely embarrassed to learn something new in front of anyone. Therefore, this newly launched blog ministry has been excruciating. Oh, I’ve written a lot…in private…where it was safe to fail. But I’ve taken another look at Jesus’ Cross and realized His Cause must be greater than my embarrassment.

Hopefully, some of you will come along with me as I put my face in the wind and feel the delightful buoyancy of His Spirit lifting me. I cannot guarantee that there won’t be some flailing and crying, but I’ll try to keep it to a minimum.

Perhaps you have a ministry tucked safely inside, away from public view, that God is moving on you to bring out into the light. Let’s learn together. After all, the cause is greater than our embarrassment. 

-Pat Vick