Katie Kling: The Gospel of Tea Cups and Dirty Dishes

Rejoicing with the Lord is as holy at the tea table as it is at the kitchen sink.

I love to celebrate and to feast. It’s the part of Jesus’ kingdom that draws me in the most—it calls me to live fully and abundantly.

I believe in the concept of feasting so much that this year I curated a mismatched tea set for my classroom (I teach high school history). While I knew it would be a fun activity, it has actually created a profound sense of “home.” There’s nothing quite like watching a senior football player delicately hold a teacup while I lecture on the next era in AP European History.

I savor these tea parties. I’m someone who is all about the drama and the big overtures of God’s extravagant love—and extending that care to others through hosting.

However, at the end of a feast (or a tea party, in this case), there await the dishes.

My recent growth and deepening in the Christian faith has been none other than accepting—and rejoicing in—the mundane: washing dishes.

Brother Lawrence, a French monk in the 17th century, once prayed, “Lord of all pots and pans and things ... make me a saint by getting meals and washing up the plates!”

A better-known name, Mother Teresa, said, “Wash the plate not because it is dirty nor because you are told to wash it, but because you love the person who will use it next.”

So as I wash up all those dishes in the faculty workroom late on a given weekday afternoon, may I have a joyful spirit that worships Christ while I scrub the crusted sugar off a butterfly teacup. May I pray over the students who will use them next. May I humble myself to such work for the sake of something greater.

May Christ be glorified in all things—both great and small, both extravagant and menial, both in eating up the feast and in washing up the dishes.