When Jesus Came to the Cracker Barrel
Short story by Michael Braswell

It was another bustling Cracker Barrel Tuesday morning. Four friends shuffled in from the cold toward the round table in the corner, the one where they had met for breakfast each week, going on thirty years strong. Tammy met them as she always did with hellos and hot coffee.

Although their given names were Lee, Craig , Adrian and Calvin, they often relied on the nicknames they had tagged each other with—Shades, White Shoes, Prof, and Killer—as they bantered back and forth. It was always open season for a little ribbing until Killer restored order by leading them in “The Prayer of the Holy Spirit,” followed by a brief blessing for the food that would soon be set before them. Sports talk, news of the day, along with a funny recollection and a joke or two, were followed by prayer concerns as they ate.

Tammy had just refilled their coffee cups when a fellow approached the table and introduced himself. “Hi guys. Name’s Jess. Mind if I join you?”

There was a moment of awkward silence as the four compadres looked the stranger over. He appeared to be in his mid-forties. He wore a sweatshirt hoodie. His work jeans were well-worn as were his hiking boots. His weathered face and dark brown eyes were framed by a salt and pepper beard and a Red Cross baseball hat that had seen better days.

“Have a seat, Jess,” Shades said, followed by different versions of “sit down and join us” from the other three men.

“What would you like to eat?” Prof inquired, rising from his chair. “I’ll go find Tammy.”

 The stranger smiled and motioned for him to sit down. “Thanks anyway, but a cup of coffee will do me just fine when Tammy comes back around.”

Momentary silence returned, broken by White Shoes introducing himself. “I’m Adrian.”

Pointing to the others, he continued. “He’s Craig and Lee’s to your right and Calvin’s to your left.

“Is there anything we can do for you?”

Tammy handed Jess a steaming cup of coffee. Thanking her, he took a sip and smiled. “Just a little conversation will do for now. I saw you folks over here having a good time and thought I might sit with you for a spell.”

“We’re glad to have you join us,” Craig chimed in, “but I’m not sure if hanging out with this bunch will do anything for your reputation.”

Jess laughed. “I like hanging out with folks and meeting all kinds of people in all kinds of places, even those with suspect reputations. You might say it’s kind of a hobby of mine. I couldn’t help but overhear you calling Adrian ‘White Shoes.’ That’s a nickname I’ve never heard before.”

“It comes from when he played college football,” Calvin replied.

Adrian shifted in his chair. “I was a wide receiver. Although I wasn’t that fast, I had pretty good hands when it came to catching the football.”

“I recall that wasn’t the only thing you had pretty good hands with,” Lee chimed in, to the laughter of the others.

“What about you?” Calvin asked. “Do you have any nick-names your friends ever tagged you with?”

“Quite a few, actually,” Jess replied, “Some good and some not so good. I’m on the road a lot so I meet a lot of different folks,” he continued, taking another sip of coffee.

“You a long-haul truck driver?”  Craig inquired.

Jess held his cup out to Tammy who was making another round for more refills. “No, driving big Semis is not for me. Guess you could say if I’m anything, I’m a long-haul construction worker.”

Craig took a bite of hash-brown casserole and looked up. “What kind of construction?”

“Carpentry,” Jess replied.

Lee sopped up the last of the gravy with what was left of his biscuit. “That’s a good skill. Our church mission trips depend on good carpenters. We found out the hard way that not everyone who thinks he is a good carpenter, is in fact, a good carpenter.”

Jess laughed. “You got that right. Mission trips are a good way to help folks in need. I’ve always been partial to them myself. And sometimes, a good hammer is hard to find.”

He pushed his chair back. “Fellows, I need to hit the John. Be back in a few minutes.”

The four friends watched Jess walk toward the bathroom.

Calvin looked at his three friends. “Something’s going on here. I’m not sure what it is. I’m not even sure I want to know what it is.”

Craig leaned forward. “I’m feeling uneasy myself.”

“Actually, fellows, I would like to get up and leave, but at the same time, for some strange reason, I feel like I have to stay—at least, until he leaves,” Lee replied.

Adrian nodded in agreement. “I feel the same way the rest of you do. When he comes back, we can chat with him a few more minutes and then ease on out.”

“Good idea,” Lee responded. “Truth is, I do have an appointment at the Chevy dealership to get my wife’s car serviced.”

When Jess returned, he sat down and looked at the men. “I want you boys to know that I really appreciate your hospitality.” When he told them he had picked up the check for their breakfast, they all assured him that wasn’t necessary.

He looked at them and smiled. “I am happy to buy your breakfast, and I’ve enjoyed our time together.”

“But . . .”, Craig began.

Jess waved his protest off. “Don’t worry about it. I am used to paying folks’ bills.”

Jess paused and looked intently at each man. Reaching into the pocket of his sweatshirt, he pulled out four folded pieces of paper.

“Adrian, Craig, Lee, and Calvin, I do have need of your help. I know you are good men and that you care about others. And I know what I am about to say to you is going to make you feel uneasy, even a bit strange. All I ask is that you hear me out.”

Handing each of them a note, he continued. “I know each of you in a way that you may find difficult to understand. Each of these notes is personal. Each one reveals something that you have never told anyone. I want you to read them now.”

The apprehension on the four friends’ faces was palpable as they read what Jess had written to each of them.

Lee and Adrian’s hands trembled as they laid their notes on the table. A thin bead of sweat broke out on the forehead of Craig, and Calvin rubbed his eyes as he placed the note in his shirt pocket.

“Who are you?” Calvin asked Jess.

Jess sighed and smiled. “I think you may already know, or at least suspect.”

Rubbing his beard, he continued. “I am aware that what you are feeling right now is unsettling, maybe even a bit frightening. You all probably would like to get up and leave. Although you are free to do that, I hope you won’t. I hope you will hear what I have to say before deciding whether to help me or not?”

“What is that you want?” Lee interjected.

Jess leaned forward. “It will require you to have faith in what you profess to believe, and in me. I need you to leave everything behind for a few weeks, your families and whatever you are doing, and meet me at a designated locale in Telford to go on a mission trip.”

The four men looked at each other, no less confused than before.

Finally, Calvin spoke. “How long will this mission trip last, and why us?”

“It will last as long as it needs to last. I have chosen you for good reasons, reasons you do not understand, reasons that will require you to choose to go with me or remain behind.”

“What you are telling us reminds me a lot of the parable of ‘the rich young ruler,’” Calvin continued.

Jess leaned back in his chair. “You four are rich indeed, in ways you aren’t even aware of, including what you can become. But no, Calvin, I’m not asking any of you to do what the rich young ruler was instructed to do.”

“What would be required?” Lee replied.

Jess touched Lee’s arm. “I’m not asking you to give up your money, possessions, or families. I am asking the four of you to give up your time for a few weeks and follow me on a mission trip that will help countless people, as well as provide you with a blessing unlike any joy you have ever experienced.”

Several more moments of silence passed before Jess spoke.

“I won’t ask for your decision right now. You can think and pray about it, and talk it over with each other. The note I gave each of you has the date, time, and directions to a barn in Telford. It will be the one with the neon cross over the entrance. I will have chairs arranged with your names on them.” As the men rose from the table, Adrian asked Jess how many were needed for the mission trip.

Jess zipped up his sweatshirt. “A total of twelve. Two from your group and ten others.”

Looking at the four friends, he smiled and tipped his hat. “God bless.”

Then he walked away.

Source: From Braswell, Michael (2024). When Jesus Came to the Cracker Barrel and other stories. Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock: Resource Publications.