I believe summer nights should end with ice cream. And I don’t just mean frozen desserts; I mean ice cream. Frozen custard counts. Same for gelato. In a tight spot, exceptions can be made for frozen yogurt. Please don’t bother me with sorbets, sherbet, popsicles, Italian ice, or snow cones–all sophisticated ways of smuggling frozen water into your body.
Our family has tried to find America’s best scoops, especially during vacation. St. Louis loves Ted Drewes like they love hot summers and red t-shirts. Wisconsin is dotted with glorious frozen custard served with a side of fried cheese. Cincinnati rightly upholds Graeter’s. Kohr Brothers on the Atlantic coast peddles soft serve for an eye-popping $7, but still hits hard on a steamy day. Berkey Creamery at Penn State won us over; if the Nittany Lion offense could match the magic of the creamery, James Franklin would have three national championships by now. But State College is an eternity away; maybe for now we can hope that Memphis will get a Jeni’s so that a taste of brambleberry crisp won’t require a 3-hour pilgrimage.
But my favorite ice cream joint is something more familiar: McDonald’s.
That’s right, Golden Arches. You might not be lovin’ it, but I am. Get your jokes in now about how the ice cream machine is always broken. Even if it’s down, there is always another McDonald’s a mile away that is ready to serve you delicious vanilla soft serve. I know that the founder was named Kroc, not crock, but this place understands ice cream. In fact, we’ve probably had more licks from a McDonald’s cone than any other brand. And each lick was probably vanilla.
“Get your jokes in now about how the ice cream machine is always broken.”
Because vanilla is the flavor that truly makes us happy. Yes I know about cherry and strawberry and butter pecan. I’ve tried to differentiate chocolate chip and chocolate chunk, without success. And I’ve indulged in artisanal flavors that mix something from the cheese counter with something from the herb garden. All fine. But I never have regretted a cup of vanilla.
It’s sweet. It’s simple. It’s uncomplicated. Baskin Robbins has 31 flavors. I’m betting there is a 32nd you would try if they offered. They could offer 131 and you’d be curious about flavor 132. Otherwise, why do these shops all have those tiny tasting spoons? There are dozens of choices; how does someone not have a ballpark idea of what they like? I’ve eaten ice cream with people who were disappointed in their choice, despite the spoons and descriptions and varieties. How does a person mismanage this?
Maybe they should have stuck with vanilla.
Absolutely nobody is ever disappointed at McDonald’s. Okay, at least not because of the ice cream. It’s cold on a hot day. It’s cheap on a tight budget. The store is always open, they have a bathroom, and the workers occasionally pretend to be interested. What more can we ask for?
Sometimes I feel like we ignore the vanilla ice cream in our lives of faith.
“Sometimes I feel like we ignore the vanilla ice cream in our lives of faith.”
There is something simple and rewarding in front of us, but we hold out and hope that something more unique and specific will come around. We skip the good for the ideal.
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We stop going to church and wish that the church would build out their small group ministry.
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We ignore the curriculum and classes the church is offering so we can do our own thing.
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We try podcasts about the Bible, YouTube channels about the Bible, and video series about the Bible, yet find ourselves forgetting to read the actual Bible.
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We wish we went to church with different people.
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We get bored with the church’s mercy ministries and wish we had different ones.
Flourishing in ministry does not come because we find something exactly targeted to us, specific for us, and customized to our desires. Instead, it often comes through showing up for generic things that everybody can get around. It comes when we simply show up and let God work.
“There is something simple and rewarding in front of us, but we hold out and hope that something more unique and specific will come around.”
Sometimes we are the only people our age. Sometimes we are the only married people or the only single people. Sometimes we are the only people with kids or the only ones without kids. We never know. In a hyper-customized world, we need more big tent events that get everyone in the same room for a shared experience. The messaging is not customized and never comes through the platform we use most. The style may never match our aesthetic. It doesn’t matter; we aren’t waiting for perfection, we are searching for good.
Sometimes, it’s really good.
From Bob Turner’s “Stationery” site. Used with permission.
