Today I’m at the Internet Café talking about one of my favorite subjects: donuts. If you’ve been reading my blog for a long time, you might have read this. It’s one of the earliest essays I wrote… and it’s still a story I tell all the time. Because, really, does anyone ever get tired of donuts? If so, don’t tell me. We might not be able to remain friends.

When I started attending my church, we had donuts every week in the adult Sunday school class. (I wonder what drew me more at first, the hunger for knowledge or the craving for sugar?) It was part of the ritual – hug a couple people, doctor our coffees, and pass around the flat white boxes of Krispy Kremes, licking the icing flakes off our fingertips. Mmm. I hoped someone would pass, leaving me an extra, but I never wanted to look like a pig by taking two right away. Forget bran flakes and yogurt; I want to start my day with donuts.

One day, not long after I began attending our church, I was talking to our pastor, Nathan. I had questions about everything. I didn’t understand the emotions, the jargon, the feelings. People talked about intense spiritual experiences that seemed crazy, delusional – just plain made up. Rather than longing for those moments, I questioned their legitimacy, and wondered how much of it I wanted for myself. I stumbled over “Christian-ese,” the confusing terminology that many Christians use in an attempt to explain complex spiritual concepts in simple words. In particular, I had questions about the “baptism of the Holy Ghost.” The term, as they were using it, refers to speaking in tongues. In my circles, everybody talked about it, but I wasn’t convinced that I wanted it. I didn’t understand it, and I thought possibly I’d be just fine without it. I believed the Holy Spirit lived inside me. I felt the changes in my life. I’d become aware of the presence of God in my daily activities. I’d learned to talk to Him throughout the day, and I thought that was enough. I was tired of feeling like I was lacking because I hadn’t experienced what someone else had. Wasn’t what I already had enough?

Pastor Nathan asked me if I’d ever watched someone being offered donuts. Sure, I said. Every Sunday morning. “What does that person do?” he asked. << read the rest at the Internet Café >>

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