One scene saved my Dunkin’ run from being blah.
It started off with the ritual: a mobile order for an iced coffee loaded with creamers and a swirl of French vanilla. Check. Pick-up said coffee. Check.
They also offer the world’s best creamer in single-serve containers, and experience convinced me these cups were yours for the asking. So, I requested some from the lady behind the counter.
“How many would you like?” came the response.
I splashed one of their creamers into my home-brewed coffee. On rare occasions, I would splurge with two. The answer to the server’s question, therefore, would determine the number of mornings I’d get to enjoy the creamy concoction.
What happened next stunned both of us.
I verbalized “three” as four of my left fingers flew up.
Simultaneously.
Yep, you read that right. Apparently, a part of me thought three creamers was a polite ask, while another part believed four was better because it would mean a bonus day of creamy coffee.
The lady behind the counter frowned at this blatant display of two-mindedness. “Uh, I’ll take four, please,” I arbitrated.
Minutes later, I scooted away with my cold coffee, four creamers, and a contented smile.
This incident happened a while back, but it lives on in my memory.
And not just because of the impromptu internal riot.
Unexpectedly, buying coffee from Dunkin’ also taught me a few lessons about God.
1. Generosity
I’m touched by this store’s generosity. I’ve shopped at other Dunkin’ locations where employees flat-out refused to hand out any creamers to go. (Glendale, I’m subtly staring at you.)
Before anyone complains, let me explain how I understand that each franchise has the right to determine its own policy. But as someone who has both benefited from free creamers over the years and poured hundreds of faithful dollars into the Dunkin’ brand, I do not take these little freebies for granted.
This whole business of being generous is so like God. You can spot His generosity splayed in nature. For instance, He could’ve created the world to exude either function or beauty, but He chose both. He could’ve created one exotic species of fish—with the same exact hue—but instead, there are upwards of 30,000, sporting various stripes, shapes, and shades of colors.
See how generous God is?
2. Specificity
Years ago, I entered the merchandise section of a Christian convention, and as I kept strolling, a pink t-shirt with a catchy message refused to leave me alone. I didn’t want to miss any moment of the session that was starting, so I asked the Lord to reserve the shirt until I could buy it.
Was it there by the time I returned? Yes—but only in black.
The disappointment drove me to file an inner complaint.
Lord, I asked You to reserve me a shirt and yet the only one left in my size is black. I wanted the pink one.
I sensed His response in my heart: When you reserved it, you didn’t specify the color.
True. Touché, Lord.
I bought the black shirt just to commemorate the lesson.
Dunkin’ confirmed the importance of specifying what I want. Anytime I asked my favorite franchise for creamers to go, the response was almost always, “how many?”
No wonder Jesus Himself infused the following details into a prayer parable. “Which of you shall have a friend, and go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves?’” (Luke 11:5, NKJV, emphasis added). Notice how the requester in the parable was anything but vague. He didn’t ask for any available leftovers; neither did he let his friend decide on the amount of food to give.
Instead, he boldly named his request: three loaves of bread, please.
What would it take you to approach God with a similar level of confidence that He cares about the details of your need?
3. Always Answers Prayers
I once pushed the limit of what I considered decent and half cringed as I requested eight creamers to go, halfway expecting the employee—a man this time—to scowl and shoo me away.
But no, he handed them over without hesitation.
Come to think of it, my request for creamers from that store never resulted in a no. One time they ran out of the single-serve version, so an employee poured 3-4 oz worth of creamers in a small cup.
This, again, is so like our God. He likes to answer our requests in the affirmative. David referred to Him as such: “Praise awaits you, our God, in Zion; to you, our vows will be fulfilled. You who answer prayer, to you all people will come” (Psalm 65:1-2).
Did you catch the italicized part of the verse? “You who answer prayer.” But David’s reliance on God strikes a stark contrast to the stories we hear—and embody—regarding prayers He didn’t answer. Prayers of cancers that never got cured and marriages that crumbled and tornadoes that tore lives apart, and comatose patients who never regained consciousness.
On and on.
How do we explain unanswered prayers?
Good question.
The question is so good, it silenced me—sidelining this article—for years. There was just no worthwhile comeback.
David As Example
I hate false hope, so let me caution you. Just because you’re reading these words now doesn’t mean you’re about to discover a breakthrough answer that’s both theologically sound and emotionally fulfilling.
What I offer, instead, is a proposal.
That we commit to loving God and trusting His Word despite disappointing circumstances.
If God views the nations of the world like a drop in a bucket (Isaiah 40:15), then our lives—and the lives of those whose prayers went unanswered—are even tinier. Perhaps we represent one small speck of that drop.
What do we, a mixture of molecules, know compared to the God who knows everything and sees every heart (Proverbs 16:2, 1 Samuel 16:7, Luke 16:15, I John 3:20)? Our unanswered prayers may feel alarming here, this side of eternity, along with the whys surrounding them. But ultimately, God will be found true when He is judged (Romans 3:4).
Perhaps when all is said and done, He’ll explain why these prayers went unfulfilled.
Until then, let’s imitate David, whose son died despite his desperate intercession (2 Samuel 12:15-20). The famed king still nicknamed God as the One who answers prayers—regardless of this heartbreak.
Let’s learn from him. Let’s love God and trust in His goodness, even when tears fall.
Whether or not you do so while drinking Dunkin’ is optional.
Photo Credit: ©GettyImages/Wipada Wipawin
Audrey Davidheiser, PhD is a California licensed psychologist, certified Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapist, and IFSI-approved clinical consultant. After founding and directing a counseling center for the Los Angeles Dream Center, she now devotes her practice to survivors of trauma—including spiritual abuse. If you need her advice, visit her on www.aimforbreakthrough.com