This week while in Phoenix for a couple of stirring days thinking about equipping the church and living into our missional calling together I experienced artisan disruption.
The lads and I were heading to the second day of the gathering and decided to find some local coffee spot to fuel our morning. When the first stop was closed we rounded the corner into another shop that pushed against our attempts at constant efficiency.
Inside a small art gallery (which also had a hair salon) there was a coffee bar, with one barista doing more than just making drinks, he was making art. The guy had form, precision, and and exacting hand as he made each drink.
The line was out the door yet he carried on, unhurried, unhindered by demand. He was the artisan.
At first I felt out of place. After all I am the guy who drinks from carafes at Panera because I have a sip membership. So to be in a bespoke establishment pulled me out of my element to begin with. This is a discomfort I enjoy, the experience, the new environment. But what I didn’t expect was my hurry to be disquieted.
There was a subtle anxiousness in my core because what was expected to be a quick stop for coffee was taking time, far more than usual.
Recognizing this anxiety, I determined to let it go and rather watch the art before me, the disruption that was precise drink making. We made our orders and observed. But it was more than just watching a barista work, it was a sacred moment of quiet, patience, and beauty.
One of my friends couldn’t quite get the time-anxiety off his chest, but the rest of us found an invited peace in those moments.
This is what art, and the art of work, is for. Jesus doesn’t want our efficiency (or only our efficiency), he wants our skill, our care, our hearts. Maybe you might need to find yourself in a new space with a difference pace to experience it. It will not be time wasted. You might actually see it as a thin place, where the kingdom is glimpsed more clearly, and the King’s intention revealed.
Find your artisan disruption.