Out of Gas

In search of gas for our lawnmower, the other day our gas can and I took a walk to a convenience store/gas station up the street a few blocks. When I reached the pumps, I noticed but paid no attention to handwritten signs taped to their fronts. Following the usual regimen of a credit card swipe and receipt preference selection, I engaged the pump’s cheapest (CORRECTION: least outrageously expensive) blend. Nothing.

I then actually read the sign on the pump’s face, from which I learned that the station had run out of unleaded and premium gas (that would be the least and most outrageously expensive blends). Ever quick on processes of elimination, I deduced there was one choice left for me and my can. Unfazed by the prospect of spending an extra dime a gallon, I pushed the mid-grade button then pulled the trigger. Again, nothing.

I reread the signs – no unleaded or premium – then moved toward the store’s entrance, where I was greeted by an exiting employee, she with more hand-drafted signs in tow.

“Are you out of all gas?” I asked, hoping soon to wake up on the well irony-ed sheets of this farcical moment.

“Yeah, it looks like we are. We thought we had the mid-grade stuff, but it doesn’t look like we do,” was the employee’s authoritative reply.

“Do you expect to get gas anytime soon?” I continued, by now working hard to contain my derision and salvage my excursion’s mission.

“Well, we hope so. We called them, but we never know when they’ll come by,” she said, sounding little like the take-charge leader types I expect to find behind convenience store cash registers.

Some creative four letter commentary punctuated my return home, after which I discovered that the gas outage was a contained phenomenon, as I filled our gas can at another station in the neighborhood.

How does a gas station run out of gas?


A few years ago, when I was not nearly as health conscious as I am today, I drove through a Burger King drive thru for lunch. I ordered a Whopper, or a double cheeseburger, or something in the beef section of the restaurant’s menu.

“We’re out of hamburger right now,” said the would-be server.

“You’re out of hamburger?” I asked, thinking the drive thru’s speaker was seriously distorting the worker’s words.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Do you expect to get any hamburger in any time soon,” I continued, not knowing that one day I would put an analogous question to a convenience store worker.

“Well, we have some on order, but we don’t know when it will get here,” she explained.

I drove away from the Burger King without my Whopper, muttering respect for Clara Peller, of the infamous 1980's Wendy’s commercial, who asked “Where’s the beef?” but apparently never found it.

How does a hamburger restaurant run out of hamburger?


There are lots of people who will visit churches in a few days looking for spiritual hope, sustenance, and connection. Perhaps the word “church” on the congregations’ main signs will prompt expectations of success; perhaps recommendations from friends or family, maybe a dusted-off childhood memory of the church’s prominence and potential, or a desire to learn more about some guy named Jesus will create optimism as those folks gather with the churches they visit.

I wonder how many of those spiritual travelers will drive away asking, “How does a group of Christians run out of Jesus?"


Pray with me:
Help me be a clear reflection of Jesus, God. No questions. No hastily written excuses. He is my Lord, or so I say. May no one cross my path in worship this weekend having to ask whether I have run out of the one in whose name I pray, Amen.