Today I was the fry-girl at good ole' Mickey D's. Usually I work the front register and constantly get to flash customers a smile, slyly bring up our ministry in Destin this summer, and draw conversations back to the Lord. It isn't much, but it's just enough to feel like I'm fulfilling the goal of showing people the gospel at work this summer.
But being fry-girl was a totally different job description. I stood with my back to everyone else and the most conversation I had was to shout, "30 more seconds on the large and two mediums!" in response to a call for more fries for an order. My sole companion was a scalding stainless steel monster. My hands and face were covered in a film of oil by the end of the day, but don't worry I've already dug out the ProActiv to fight it. The worst moment was when I got a little too enthusiastic and swung the metal fry basket straight onto my fair skin. I now have six raised lines burned into my arm from wires that melted right into my skin.
The silence of today allowed for time to reflect on all those trying aspects of being fry-girl. But a bigger struggle today than grease and heat was with humbleness. Of all the jobs at McDonald's making fries has by far been my least favorite. I just kept thinking how pointless it was. I am a strong Christian for crying out loud. Shouldn't God have been using me to witness like every other day? I didn't even get to mention beach project once. How could that have been a productive day for the King? They should have put someone else there, that job was not the right place for me...
Those were my my thoughts as the day progressed. It wasn't till the drive home as I was about to open my pompous mouth and complain that I realized what a perfect picture of the Gospel fry-girl was for me.
Every time I filled fry orders more had to be made. My job was never done, there were always more orders to complete. No one said thank you, most people didn't even acknowledge me or the work I was doing to make their lives easier. Isn't that exactly what Jesus does for us every day? He constantly forgives and loves us, with no adequate thank you's or even acknowledgment of His goodness. My single day of struggle is a miniature image of what Jesus feels every day of my life.
Tomorrow when I go in, I'm going to offer to be the fry-girl again. Not to beat the evil fry machine in the battle it waged today, but to take another shot at living like Christ. I'll smile, be cheerful, and not show a single bit of discontent with my down-trodden position, because when I'm labeled a Christian, or little Christ, it means acting like He would. Loving and giving without expecting anything in return.
And when I take the bandage off my burn maybe I'll post a picture. It's the cool kind of gross.
But being fry-girl was a totally different job description. I stood with my back to everyone else and the most conversation I had was to shout, "30 more seconds on the large and two mediums!" in response to a call for more fries for an order. My sole companion was a scalding stainless steel monster. My hands and face were covered in a film of oil by the end of the day, but don't worry I've already dug out the ProActiv to fight it. The worst moment was when I got a little too enthusiastic and swung the metal fry basket straight onto my fair skin. I now have six raised lines burned into my arm from wires that melted right into my skin.
The silence of today allowed for time to reflect on all those trying aspects of being fry-girl. But a bigger struggle today than grease and heat was with humbleness. Of all the jobs at McDonald's making fries has by far been my least favorite. I just kept thinking how pointless it was. I am a strong Christian for crying out loud. Shouldn't God have been using me to witness like every other day? I didn't even get to mention beach project once. How could that have been a productive day for the King? They should have put someone else there, that job was not the right place for me...
Those were my my thoughts as the day progressed. It wasn't till the drive home as I was about to open my pompous mouth and complain that I realized what a perfect picture of the Gospel fry-girl was for me.
Every time I filled fry orders more had to be made. My job was never done, there were always more orders to complete. No one said thank you, most people didn't even acknowledge me or the work I was doing to make their lives easier. Isn't that exactly what Jesus does for us every day? He constantly forgives and loves us, with no adequate thank you's or even acknowledgment of His goodness. My single day of struggle is a miniature image of what Jesus feels every day of my life.
Tomorrow when I go in, I'm going to offer to be the fry-girl again. Not to beat the evil fry machine in the battle it waged today, but to take another shot at living like Christ. I'll smile, be cheerful, and not show a single bit of discontent with my down-trodden position, because when I'm labeled a Christian, or little Christ, it means acting like He would. Loving and giving without expecting anything in return.
And when I take the bandage off my burn maybe I'll post a picture. It's the cool kind of gross.
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