“That’s a big truck,” I said while doing my best to maneuver through a blinding dust of snow in order to pass a freighter that was making me nervous.

“Why’s dat?” Evelyn responded.

“What do you mean, honey?”

“Why’s dat a big twuck?”

“Well, because it’s a bigger truck than a lot of other trucks. It has a lot more wheels and, we’ll it’s just really big.” It was early, I hadn’t yet consumed coffee, and she was confusing me.

“Why’s dat?”

“Why’s…wait, what?”

“Why does it have moe weeows?”

“It has more wheels because it carries more things than smaller trucks and it has to spread out the weight a little more.”

“Why’s dat?”

And then, gripping the wheel, I just said the first thing that came to mind: “Because, honey, we should fear and love God so that we do not despise preaching and His Word, but hold it sacred and gladly hear and learn it.”

I had recited the meaning of the Third Commandment from Luther’s Small Catechism.

There was a brief moment of contemplative silence, and then I heard a soft, but acknowledging, “Oh. Otay.”

In that moment, I realized that I could battle confusion, not by serving it, but by matching and exceeding it. Evelyn was struggling with the same morning-time issues as me. The only difference was that she was controlling the momentum of the conversation, and like a loving parent, I wanted to acknowledge her questions. I turned the tables and made it harder for the tired little girl to dominate. She didn’t want to have to think about anything, she just wanted to keep asking the same question. Once she had to consider the overwhelming information, she was satisfied with the enormity of the truck we had just passed.

I am sharing this as it relates to the Jura Prophecy. You were probably expecting me to do something theological, here, weren’t you? You were probably expecting me to talk about the word “Prophet,” how it literally means “mouth-piece,” that is, a prophet is someone who speaks for God, thus the words of prophecy are the words God desires to communicate through the prophet. Nope. I have a different angle.

I pried the cork, poured the dram, and went for the scent. I did not find myself divinely inspired, but rather, I was confused. I knew what I was smelling, but as familiar as it was, I just couldn’t spit it out with definition. However, I had already learned this lesson earlier this morning and so I sought to conquer the confusion by moving to the pantry to scan the shelves, overwhelming the confused feeling with definitive things. In the end, it was my wife who came to the rescue. She opened a bag of coffee and put it front and center. Sure enough, in this Jura edition, I was smelling flavored coffee, namely crisp, freshly ground Arabica beans dipped in almond toffee and roasted only slightly. Interesting, and maybe nice for some, but I don’t like flavored coffee. It bears a “chemical” sweet that is distinctively artificial.

The palate had a pleasant level of smoke, but the almond toffee had become bitter and somewhat tangy. With a little bit of water, the sweetness became more natural, but it retained its bite.

The finish was long. Too long…like those few moments when I was gripping the steering wheel and blindly passing a truck while my five year old carelessly asked, “Why’s dat?” I was making it through the snowy smoke, doing my best to navigate the biting wind shear, and juggling an acknowledgement of the little girl who, in her sleepy state, was trying to be sweet but was doing so artificially.

It was an interesting moment, but I don’t necessarily miss it now that it has passed.