The Eschatology of Krispy Kreme

Fayetteville is the closest “large” city near my Field Ed placement.  This town has many of the proper amenities any young adult seeks: a mall, Panera bread, Starbucks, and a Target.  Earlier this week I had a free afternoon, so I drove to Fayetteville to quench my caffeine-parched soul and to dabble in some of the fineries of “big city” life.  During my cruising I came upon the local Krispy Kreme with the “fresh and hot” sign glowing like a beacon of hope in a weary land.

I thank/blame my father for instilling in me a love of doughnuts at an early age.  I have many a fond childhood memory of Papa Sorey loading the three of us in our red Radio Flyer wagon and carrying us up to the local doughnut shop in Fondren called Tasty’s Donuts.  As we outgrew the Radio Flyer and moved to Rankin County, I remember spending many a Saturday morning stopping by Daily Made Donuts on our way to the shooting range to hone our rifle and pistol skills.  I guess it might be a little Freudian, but donuts always remind me of my Dad.  That being said, it made perfect sense that I would swing into Krispy Kreme and enjoy a doughnut and a cup of coffee.

As I sat enjoying my fresh hot glazed donut and reading over Biblical commentary (such the cool seminarian thing to do) I noticed my fellow “hot sign” diners.  The thing I love about Krispy Kreme is the fact that you will see people from all walks of life whip into the parking lot and come inside to buy a dozen or so hot glazed doughnuts.  On this particular day I was looking rough.  I was sporting my trusty tie-dye church camp shirt, had my hair in an unkempt ponytail, and wearing my sweet potato stained Chacos.  I was the definition of beauty and elegance….  I glanced at the other patrons and noticed two women who pulled up in a new BMW convertible, a man in a worn out mechanic’s jumpsuit who drove a beat up van, a woman with four children under 8, and two older couples who came from a church function.  I also saw not one, but TWO police SUV’s stop in the parking lot.  There was a wide range of socio-economic levels and a broad spectrum of colors and ethnicities.  I was briefly self-conscious thinking “Gosh, Katie, how lame is it that you’re eating at a Krispy Kreme by yourself?  Talk about fluffy girl problems!”  Thankfully many of the other patrons were also of rotund girth, so I was less paranoid about my body image.  At that moment, I was struck that I was sitting in a place where people won’t judge you and it was a crazy diverse cross-section of the Fayetteville populous.  I thought to myself, “this place must be like heaven.”

Hence the title of this blog, “The Eschatology of Krispy Kreme.”  Eschatology is a patronizing academic term for the theology of the death, judgment, and the final destiny of the soul and humanity.  I’m not saying heaven full of streets paved with Krispy Kreme doughnuts (I’m rooting for Popeye’s biscuits myself), but I do think heaven is a place where the vibrant and colorful tapestry of God’s people joins together in peace and harmony over the common love of glorifying and praising God.