Pushing the Biscuit
I went to Popeye’s today and ordered at the drive-through window. The person on the speaker said, “Would you like an extra biscuit or something?” I declined. He persisted. “Sir, are you sure you don’t want an extra biscuit? I’ll give it to you for only 32 cents.”
This “pushing the biscuit” business seemed a bit unusual, but I said, “Sure, give me the extra biscuit.”
When I pulled around to the window, the man at the register looked visibly relieved. “Thank goodness you got the extra biscuit because you don’t EVEN want to know what the total was before that.”
I knew what was coming next.
I am a minister.
I live in the Bible belt.
I grew up Southern Baptist.
These are the reasons I knew exactly what the total was before I ordered the biscuit that saved my soul. Still, I had to ask.
“What was the total?”
“SIX dollars and SIXtySIX cents”, he said, nodding at me and chewing his gum with his mouth open. He looked proud, as if he’d just saved my ass from perdition.
People like this fascinate me. He probably got his theology from the Left Behind series. He's barely informed, yet so willing to speak his mind. Amazing.
I drove away feeling very superior with my seminary degree, my theology, and my educated religous language. Everything I say begins with "Well, basically...".
But just how different am I from this man? He shouts out warnings from the window of Popeye’s. I shout them out from the pulpit. He believes in things not seen. I believe in things not seen. He has his biscuits of mercy, and I offer up little wafers.
Always introspective, I was nibbling my extra biscuit when I asked myself a scary question. Am I just a fancy pants version of the Popeye's guy?
You want red beans and rice with that?
The Preacher
10:11:25 PM 
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