Ma’am, It’s Just a Latte!

“So do not be afraid of them. There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs. Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” (Matthew 10:26-31)

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It used to be that when I traveled I’d stop at one of my favorite coffee shops for a latte and a croissant. If I have the two together, close my eyes and imagine the smell of diesel, I can start to feel like I’m in Buenos Aires just briefly. 

On a recent stop, I had the craziest altercation with the cashier. As usual, I ordered the house latte and a plain croissant. She politely told me that they no longer offered the house latte.

Without thinking much of it, I said, “Oh, how sad.” No melodrama or histrionics. I just said it, and turned to the menu to make another choice. 

Meanwhile, the drama started full speed behind the counter.

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The cashier said, “Ma’am! It’s just a latte!” 

Let me clarify that. She didn’t say it. She announced it. She hollered it. Kind of like kids do when they are in another room, supposedly talking to each other but really trying to attract an adult’s attention to  the other kid’s behavior. 

I was a little startled, said something like, “Yeah, it is,” and stepped up my efforts to reorder hoping to divert her off course.

Not getting an argument from me apparently fueled the fire. 

She got louder. “Ma’am! It’s just a latte!” 

And I quietly agreed again, desperately trying not to make eye contact. All I could think was, “Do not engage.”  

I reordered. 

She did not relent.

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By now, she’d shouted this several times, and my kids had ducked off to a table in the corner hoping not to have been seen with me or the cashier at any point. 

She calmed somewhat, but continued on. “Wait now.  Was that like, a joke? Were you trying to be funny? Because when I think of ‘sad,’ I think of world suffering and anguish. Like total despair.” 

I explained that I certainly didn’t think of this in tragic proportions, it was simply disappointing and I’d be sure to get over it quickly. I paid for our food and detached myself from the very agitated cashier. I found my boys hiding at the furthest table they could find, a little befuddled but smiling.

Despite the craziness, I had a great new phrase to add to my repertoire. 

“It’s just a latte.” 

Keep it in perspective. Don’t sweat the small stuff.

It’s a phrase I use often now. And it’s packed with meaning well beyond what this woman ever imagined.

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When Jesus sent out the disciples, He told them, in a manner of speaking, “It’s just a latte.” Don’t fear those who can kill the body but not the soul. I’ve got your back. I pay attention to the number of hairs on your head, and know the whereabouts of every sparrow. Your life is in My hands, the most capable hands you’ll find anywhere on earth.

Don’t sweat the small stuff.

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As the disciples went out on their first mission, they needed to understand what really mattered. What they needed to focus on. And what they didn’t. They didn’t need to worry for their survival.

It’s not that survival is a little bitty deal. It’s a pretty big deal. But God had that all taken care of. He wanted them to understand that. They were to focus on getting the word out. Proclaiming from the rooftops the good news that their Redeemer had come.

He didn’t want them wasting time fretting over lattes, worrying about things over which they had no control. 

You just get the job done, He told them. I’ll take care of you.

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In the grand scheme of things, my latte was not a big deal. I knew that. My kids knew that. Apparently the cashier didn’t know that I knew that. She knew that of all the things in life that really matter, a latte is not one of them. She felt passionately that I needed to know this too. 

The now discontinued house latte represents a lot of things — paying the mortgage, skyrocketing gas prices, making relationships work, performing in our jobs, getting good grades, passing tests — things that are important to life, but things where God says He’s got it covered. 

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He knows how many hairs are on my head. He’s that involved. 

He knows when a sparrow smacks into my living room window. He’s that concerned.

He knows when certain restaurant chains change their menus. He’s that aware.

He takes care of stuff I can’t begin to keep track of.

I need to focus on what matters.  

After all, “It’s just a latte.”

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