NIGHTMARE AT IHOP

REWIND WINSDAY WISDOM

The story I am about to share is the TRUTH, the WHOLE TRUTH, and mostly NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH.

The circumstances were real. The people involved are real. Their descriptions are real, only slightly altered to minimize the outrage of the current CNN liberal cancel culture. The language has been slightly edited to minimize the outrage of the FOX News religious right-wing critics of those with whom they disagree.

Judge Judy’s decision was final.

My younger son, Derek, and I took a spontaneous overnight trip. We drove through the night from Nashville to Florida, just to sit on the sand of Crescent Beach and watch the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean. The beach is secluded, and the beauty is breathtaking.

We arrived in Jacksonville tired and hungry. We had time to eat. We were less than an hour from the beach with sunrise still almost four hours away.

We found an IHOP close to the freeway. IHOP…Back in the day, it was International House of Pancakes, a great place for pancakes and breakfast.

‘International’ would be a fair description of the crowd descending on this breakfast place that early morning. It was a microcosm of our social world.

The primary parties included a Hells Angels biker gang, an African American church party, a Baby Boomer couple, two Middle Eastern guys speaking Arabic, a patriotic party of four wearing red caps and American flag designs, some not-so-secret druggies, and a few persons dressed in rainbow-colored attire. We all shared the same experience.

What was missing? There was no service and no food. The restaurant was open, but the kitchen was in disarray.

I do not want this to sound as if I want to compound the biases which are so prevalent in our culture. We all need to be slow to judge and even slower to condemn.

Just last week, my six-year-old granddaughter warned her mother against making snap judgments. “Mom, when you hear me singing upstairs, you might think you hear me say a bad word…I’m singing ‘finish it’ but sometimes it sounds like I’m saying the ‘s’ word.”

I heard a lot of singing ‘finish it’ this particular night at the Florida IHOP.

Our memorable IHOP encounter began as two large Harley-Davidson motorcycles followed us into the parking lot. Before we exited the car, two more cyclists arrived. Each bike had a male driver with a female rider clinging to his waist. Each biker revved his ‘hog’ in a contest to announce his arrival to the sleepy neighborhood behind the restaurant.

After a brief pause to reassess our level of hunger and danger, we decided to enter the pancake place. In full stereotype fashion, the heavily tattooed men lit cigarettes while the women pulled off their helmets and shook their long hair in the wind before taking their own nicotine puffs so the guys could cough.

This necessitated us walking between two of the parked bikes through the cigarette smoke and biker lingo not normally used at the convent. Somehow, ‘babe’ and ‘booty’ and ‘beer’ and ‘b-ritches’ were used in one sentence. The second biker’s reply identified an exclamatory affirmation and an eternal destination.

No judgment here. Just a description. People can ride whatever they want and smoke whatever they want and pretty much say whatever they want. I am immune to language adaptations, but allergic to cigarette smoke.

The hostess seated us in a booth next to three young people. The restaurant was not very busy. There were two other groups in the far side of the restaurant. The patriotic patrons chugging water identified with MAGA. The rainbow coalition feeling neglected identified with a name that sounded like it came from playing scrabble without vowels.

It just felt like a protest march was scheduled for a High Noon showdown.

The strange vibe was accentuated when there were no servers in sight. No waitress. No busboys. No one. We sat for over ten minutes without seeing any worker besides the hostess who had now seated the biker gang crew of eight at a long table in the middle of the restaurant.

Fortunately, we were not in a hurry. We had nowhere to be until daybreak. That was good because our waiting time in that IHOP would set new personal records.

Finally, a young waitress appeared from the kitchen with some drinks for the two guys and girl seated next to us. Apparently, from the lengthy and loud conversation, the waitress was part of their social circle. They had all gone to high school together. I gained additional information through investigative listening.

One of the three customers had just supplied some ‘weed’ for the IHOP waitress to share with her co-workers. She reported the three waitresses and two cooks had been out back on a ‘break.’ Everyone was happy to share the ‘joint.’ She took their order and then turned to get our request for pancakes.

Into this mess entered another large group, an African American church entourage, topping off a night of praise and spiritual teaching with some heavenly pancakes. That’s right. A group of twelve finely dressed churchgoers joined the scene. Talk about church going long. This was a post-midnight celebration.

The group was seated at a long table next to our booth. Bright colored clothes, big hats, and jewelry were not exclusive to the women. The gold chains looked eerily similar to what two of the bikers were wearing. Apparently, there is a jewelry store that caters to angels from both eternal spectrums.

Several more couples were seated. The biker gang got loud and demanding. The leader, in his sleeveless Hells Angels’ t-shirt and gold chain, banged his fist on the table while shouting threats at the non-existent wait staff.

A Lady Gaga wanna-be entertained the clientele with her version of “Tequila Sunrise.” That ended when her beau shoved her into a chair and announced they would settle for some beer. Their Mama Cass lookalike stepped into the spotlight, shouting obscenities before belting out a few bars of California Dreamin‘.

The Dreaming of Heaven group did not see a waitress either. During the chaotic Hells Angels commotion, the church leader and his wife stood up from the table with a comment about the greater blessing for the ones willing to serve. They returned with twelve glasses and two pitchers of water. Somewhere, Jesus must have been feeding the multitudes.

Did anyone see the little boy with the basket of pancakes?

Derek and I were feeling the anxiety. The disgruntled clamor was contagious. It was on the verge of slipping into a pandemic of complaints. My exit strategy appeared as dangerous as staying.

The Al-Qaeda looking pair slowly rose from their booth and left. It was a big sigh of relief when we saw them take their backpacks. The millennials stormed out with comments about the poor service and the shaky stock market.

The elderly Baby-Boomer couple just gave up. They did not say a word. At some point in married life, conversation is unnecessary. One darting glance of the eyes can synchronize all movements.

All these groups entered the restaurant after us. They departed before us. We stayed because I enjoy observing people. I retained some small measure of hope that a short stack would arrive soon.

OK. The TRUTH. I was scared. How do I get my son out of this clash of the titans?

The one with the biggest mouth at the right-wing table yelled, “I had time to go home and shower and then get back here before my pancakes. Come on! Make America great again.”

The pastor quieted his whispering congregation and suggested they join hands, bow their heads, and pray for the nice people in their bandanas and tattoos. I thought prayer was a great idea, but there was no way I was going to close my eyes. I hoped they would add a request for some pancake manna to fall on our table.

Prayer does work. The biker gang stormed out with a few profanity-laced threats. Once the motorbikes roared into the darkness, the church group parted without ever seeing a waitress. “Help us, Lord” and “Amen” floated into the same atmosphere where the Hells Angels’ choir departed singing, “Finish it.”

Derek and I began to slide out of our booth when the waitress reappeared with the food for her three friends. She apologized to us and said our food was ready. She would be right back.

We had nowhere to go and no reason to leave now. Pancakes were on the horizon even if the sun was still a few hours away.

The next moments ended my IHOP fascination. The girl in the next booth shouted a loud announcement as she held up the long hair mixed in her eggs. Gag me.

Derek is faster than I am. However, I was not far behind him.

We traveled closer to the beach. We still needed to kill a couple of hours and some breakfast would be a bonus. All the restaurants were closed. So were the fast-food places. Apparently, Sunrise Grill does not even get up that early.

We found a Denny’s near the beach. Its lights were on, and a few cars were out front. We entered and the lady said to sit wherever we liked.

There was a man in the corner booth with a cup of coffee and a computer. It seemed as if he was working on his taxes. It would have worked better for him if curse words counted as business deductions.

A drunk sat at the bar flirting with the bar tender. I am not judging, just reporting. He said he was drunk and also announced he was flirting with the woman.

We sat there waiting…waiting for a server…waiting for food…waiting for the sunrise.

Please forgive me if Denny’s is on your bucket list. My best experience with Denny’s was with my dad.

We were in Kansas City for over a week, chasing the basketball team coached by my other son, Kyle. They were playing in the national tournament and made it all the way to the Final Four.

Dad wanted to go to Denny’s for breakfast…every morning. I assured Dad that there were some really good restaurants in Kansas City. Some were famous for their delicious breakfasts. Pancakes, eggs, sausage and bacon, biscuits and gravy. The ‘gravy’ almost won him over, but he always insisted that Denny’s Grand Slam breakfast and very hot coffee would be fine.

Derek and I were ready for Denny’s finest or just pretty good stuff. We did not need a Grand Slam breakfast. At this point, we would have accepted a ‘Bundt’ cake or a ‘single’ slice of toast.

After waiting for about twenty-minutes, the hostess came to our table to inform us that the restaurant was closed.

Closed? You just welcomed us to the restaurant. The lights began to dim. I seriously wondered if the heavens were going to open with an angelic announcement that the sunrise had been canceled.

The sunrise was gorgeous. To share it with Derek is a memory only made better by an IHOP story that no one would ever believe.

Let me offer a quick but important observation about this culture’s chaos, political protests, and social media frenzy in light of God’s Word about love and truth and hope.

People are different. Some are really different from you. Some have cultural, political, and religious views vastly different from yours. Our differences are much more serious than preferences for IHOP or Denny’s or Sunrise Grill. We have problems which run much deeper than skin color, slogan chants, or social media slurs.

We live in the depths of a “Hate” problem. People hate those with whom they disagree. It seems as if it is not enough to express different views on religion, politics, social causes, or sexual preferences. We want to win the debate, which is impossible since no one listens.

Anger suppresses reason. Hate destroys peace.

We live in a social world where unhappy people boldly express their dislike of other people as well as their disgruntlement of life. How should we interact with those whose lifestyle and values are vastly different, even hostile to ours?

Most of us live on Stressame Street where every corner intersects with people who see, and live life differently than we do. Do we shrink to avoid or shout to confront? Or do we treat others the way we wish to be treated, even when it is not reciprocated?

“The most important thing in life is to love God and love others…Everything else depends on that…Walk in love” (#1 Textbook).

In every situation and with every person, we should love first and most.

Every person. Every time. No limits…No ending…No exceptions.

We love people who look differently, act differently, think differently, believe differently. We accept people for who they are. That is what Jesus did and still does through His true followers.

Listen carefully.

Loving someone DOES NOT mean we have to agree with them or accept their cultural values It also DOES NOT mean that we should be their Bible-thumping, hell-bent judges.

Jesus loved us when we believed and acted differently. Some of us were very vocal and hostile to His ways…identifying ourselves as independent protesters of a different kind of lifestyle.

Jesus loved us while never changing what He believed was the Truth. Jesus just showed the difference in how He could love someone adamantly defiant to His teaching.

Jesus lives inside of us to lead us to others He intends to love through us…people who look, act, and believe differently than us. We love them in spite of the differences.

Acceptance of another human being DOES NOT require acknowledgement or assimilation into their wrong belief system.

Freedom to disagree or promote a different view of life should go both ways. You can and should express your different view from this culture. That DOES NOT mean to use forceful rhetoric or dismissive attitudes or flame-throwing missiles.

I know what it looks like and sounds like and feels like to have a barrage of short-stack self-centered ideologies crammed down your throat day after day. I know how I want to react in kind, only from a higher platform and with more forceful language and actions.

We are fighting for our families, and country, and way of life. Most importantly, we fight on behalf of a kingdom whose righteousness is the width, length, height, and depth of its love.

We DO NOT fight with hatred. Never. We fight in Love…always.

We will not win the fight with counter protests or legislation or clever debates or biased TV networks or bigger hammers or louder shouts.

WE WIN WITH BIGGER HEARTS. I can love someone while in total disagreement with his views and lifestyle.

“God, forgive them because they do not know what they are doing.” That should not look or sound like judgmental fire and brimstone. It should always be an expression of compassion and kindness and respect.

To quote my preacher friend assigned by God to keep me loving and laughing, “Our culture is going to H-E Double Hockey Sticks in a handbasket.” Our culture is deteriorating into disaster. That should not shock us!

But understand this, in the last days it is going to be very difficult to be a lover of Jesus. For people will love only themselves and their money; they will be ungrateful, heartless, hardheaded, and never give in to others; they will be constant liars and troublemakers. They will think nothing of immorality. They will mock and look down at those who try to be good. They will be hotheaded, puffed up with pride. They will go to church, but they will not really love God or believe anything they hear from God’s Word (2 Timothy 3:1-5).

How do we get their attention when our religious, political, educational, and social agendas clash with theirs?

What about following the game plan from the #1 Textbook?

Do not get involved in foolish arguments, which only upset people and make them angry. God’s people must not be quarrelsome; they must be gentle, patient teachers of those who are wrong. Be humble when you are trying to teach those who are mixed up concerning the truth. For if you talk calmly and courteously to them, they are more likely, with God’s help, to turn away from their wrong ideas and believe what is true. (2 Timothy 2:23-25).

You might want to look at those instructions again about what love looks and sounds like with people who disagree.

No arguments…Gentleness…Patience…Humility…Calmness…Courtesy…Total dependence on God to change a heart.

Accept others as human beings and show them a better way to live. Walk in love for every person…no limits…no ending…no exceptions....no short stacks.

We do not need to argue. We just need the TRUTH, the WHOLE TRUTH, and NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH of God’s love in our words and actions.

“Lord, help me to be better at loving first and most.“

I suffer from IHOP PTSD. Watching Jeopardy or Wheel of Fortune can be helpful traumatic therapy.

Pat, I would like to buy another vowel, please. Are there any Double-Hockey-Sticks?