Better Than Coach Bags

I’m enjoying my weekly oasis of think time at Starbucks, thanks to my husband who lovingly kicks me out the door for an hour most Sundays for a little perspective gathering. After trying to order a drink with eight names that my friend Jill always gets, and mixing up breve’ and latte’, I sat down and set up shop: expensive coffee-concoction, Jim’s laptop which I steal for these occasions, my Bible, a book, and a pen. A little table of happiness.

The fatherhood of God, which we have been learning about on Sunday mornings, was one of the first topics to come to mind. We have been hearing some astounding things about our adoption in Christ! I just reread some of the Ephesians passages that tell me things I can hardly believe, but delight to try—things like God sending the Spirit of his Son into my heart, crying “Abba! Father!” Amazing. Truly amazing.

To my left is a group of women in their fifties who are sipping their eight-named drinks, and talking for the past half hour. I’m not trying to eavesdrop, but it’s impossible. They started with a passionate discussion about highlighting experiences they’ve had at a local salon. One got too dark a color (grave concern all around.) The next few topics that floated my way centered on ‘Coach’ products (the Coach boots seemed to be a satisfactory purchase— they weren’t so sure about the bags.) We then proceeded to high heels and the balance between comfort and style. Discussion ended with laments over the pressure to compete with younger people in the business world.

They seemed like a nice group of ladies, and I’ve talked about some of those topics myself. But I can’t help thinking about the inexplicable grace that has come my way, enabling my mind to be filled at this moment with priceless pearls from the truth of God’s word. I’ve found a treasure that buries a Coach bag—even boots! Transformation that makes my worst highlighting experience an extremely “light and momentary trouble.” My adoption into the eternal, glorious family of God took no skill or requirement from me, and there was no competition from younger, better-qualified applicants.

I sit here in this sweatshirt and ponytail, the richest, most extravagantly treated woman in the world. I am a child, even an heir of God Most High. I have the love of a perfect Father, the full rights of sonship, free and unlimited access to his throne, and a future of undeserved blessing and bliss in his presence.

Lord, may this “soaking” be more than skin-deep. May the priceless story of our adoption flood our hearts, bringing waves of joy and a new and star-struck view of our true Treasure.