There are few places where Canadians experience purgatory quite so vividly as in the coffee queue at Tim Hortons. It is the crucible of modern sanctification — a place where patience is tested, tempers are tempted, and the faint aroma of double-double mingles with the faint odour of human frailty.
We line up, bleary-eyed and half-human, each morning in search of that sacramental cup that might make us kind again. Somewhere between the “Next!” barked by the cashier and the shuffling of boots on salt-stained tile, a quiet theology unfolds.
For in the coffee queue, everyone waits. There is no fast pass for the privileged, no express lane for the righteous. The CEO stands behind the construction worker; the priest (yes, guilty as charged) behind the nurse coming off a night shift. It is, in its own humble way, a parable of the Kingdom: the first and the last, all equally dependent on the mercy of the barista.
And oh, the conversations! It begins innocently enough — “Cold morning, eh?” — but before long, someone’s sharing that their mother’s in the hospital, or their daughter’s just had a baby, or they’re heading to a funeral. Between the clink of change and the hiss of the espresso machine, holy ground quietly appears. We may not recognize it, but the Kingdom has leaned in close, right there beside the donut rack.
I’ve seen grace in the coffee queue more than once. The stranger who pays for the car behind them. The weary server who still manages a smile at 6:45 a.m. The friend who listens without rushing. These are the small sacraments of daily life — the drip-brew grace of ordinary holiness.
And when I finally reach the counter, I am reminded of that old Anglican prayer: “Grant us grace, Lord, in all our waiting.” Because every line, no matter how slow, teaches us something about divine timing. God, it seems, does not operate on drive-thru speed.
So next time you find yourself fidgeting in line at Tim’s, clutching your travel mug like a relic, take a deep breath and look around. The Kingdom of God may not come with a trumpet blast — but it might arrive between “Roll up the Rim” and “Have a nice day.”
After all, grace often begins right where impatience ends
A Prayer for the Coffee Queue
Holy One,
You meet us in the ordinary — in the hiss of the espresso machine, the shuffle of boots, and the quiet mercy of small talk. Teach us patience while we wait, kindness when we’re rushed, and gratitude for the stranger who smiles.
May our daily queues become classrooms of grace, where we learn again that your Kingdom is brewed slowly, shared freely, and best enjoyed together.
In the name of Christ, who waits with us in every line.
Amen