Life Never Knocks | The Day I Got Caught in a Starbucks Bathroom (and What It Taught Me)

Sometimes life doesn’t knock — it just walks in.

In this episode of The VoyageCast, Eddie shares a painfully funny and surprisingly spiritual story about being walked in on at a Starbucks bathroom… and how that moment of embarrassment opened up something deeper about vulnerability, control, and grace.

From the science of why embarrassment feels like physical pain, to the story of Adam and Eve’s first attempt at hiding, this episode explores why exposure might be the most honest path to growth.

Eddie reflects on:

• Why life never asks permission before it changes you
• How embarrassment reveals what we’re clinging to
• What “spiritual nakedness” really means (and why it’s not about literal nakedness)
• How grace refuses to wait until we’re ready
• The simple laughter that welded a father and son closer together

With humor, honesty, and a little theological grit, this episode invites you to rethink the moments you’ve wanted to hide — and consider that maybe those moments weren’t about humiliation at all, but invitation.

If you’ve ever been exposed, interrupted, or undone by life, this one’s for you.

Listen now to learn why grace doesn’t knock, why embarrassment can be holy, and why being human is sometimes the most spiritual thing you can be.

Transcript

Ed (00:00)
Hey, this is Eddie with the VoyageCast. Thank you so much for joining me today. ⁓ Before we get into this, I want to thank you so much for joining me on the VoyageCast. I know there's a lot of podcasts out there. There's a lot of self-help stuff out there. But man, if I can offer some kind of wisdom guidance or truth in your life to help change your life or at least move the needle a little bit, I'm here for it. And I hope you are too. Thank you again for joining me. And here we go with the episode. I hope you like this embarrassing story.

Ed (00:30)
So the other day I'm at Starbucks waiting for my son to finish his welding class. And I'm doing what every other patron does at Starbucks. I'm working, eavesdropping, leeching on free Wi-Fi. You know the drill, just another guy with earbuds looking like I'm being responsible and doing some work. Well then, of course, when you drink some coffee, you have to use the restroom. So I packed everything up and ⁓ went to the restroom.

And this is where things get fun. I was exhausted that day and I forgot to lock the door. And so while I'm sitting there, you know, mid moment, a woman walks in and her face was priceless. Total shock, like the cartoony kind of long frozen gasping face. And as she shamefully walked away, she said, well, I don't have to go to the bathroom anymore.

And all I could manage was, oops, I guess I forgot to lock the door. And that was it. That was the encounter. But it stuck with me. And I came back to my table and I realized that I have had so many humiliating moments in my life. And here's the truth, with humiliating moments, or just life in general. Life does not knock.

It never asks permission to come in, does it? It just shows up. Sometimes it's a stranger like I experienced opening a bathroom door. Sometimes a phone call in the middle of the night, a diagnosis, a breakup, a day your faith stops cooperating. You're sitting there minding your business, pretending you've got privacy and control like I apparently did. Then bam, the door swings open and you're exposed like I was. Funny enough though,

I think she was probably more embarrassed than I was. I really didn't care. But either way, it's kind of like this break of the illusion of control. All your polish, all your calm, all your curated images like you'd have online just dissolves because real life just shows up. You no longer the composed adult. You're startled. You're just some mammal trying to figure out what the heck.

just happened. And what's fascinating about embarrassment is it actually lights up the parts of your brain as physical pain. Maybe that's why she didn't have to go to the bathroom after that. I was fine. I did consequently lock the door when she shut it, but I think she was just fine after that. I think she genuinely didn't need to go. Neuroscientists actually can see this.

It's like a little electrical storm in the anterior cingulate cortex screaming, you've been seen! Which means the reason we feel like we might die from embarrassment is because our brains actually think something dangerous is happening. It treats exposure like some kind of injury. Spiritually, I think the same thing kind of happens as well when we're seen, truly seen, something inside of us panics.

And that's like a spiritual nakedness or a deep, deep vulnerability.

And maybe, just maybe, we were never supposed to take all of this so literally like in Genesis, this nakedness. Maybe that story was always supposed to be more about like an exposure of the heart, the terror of being known, least part of the story. I'm not focusing on the whole thing, okay? But part of the story. It's this fear of kind of being known, the ego, our flaws, our fears. We know that shame.

That's the first thing, right, that came when we ate that fruit. So what happens, we cover up and in modern days we curate, we post-filtered versions of our lives and somehow we kind of feel safe in that or we maybe call it safety. But it's been this way since the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve realize they're naked and suddenly they're scrambling for fig leaves. Humanity's first PR department stitching together the illusion of control.

But maybe the story, again, was never about literal skin. Maybe it was about what happens when we lose the image we've been managing, when the mask slips. And what does God do? He walks in anyway. What does life do? He walks in anyway. No knocking, no permission, just the question, where are you? That's not the voice of an angry judge, that's...

Kind of the first therapist question in history. God's not shocked. He's inviting them out of hiding. What are you doing? Grace doesn't wait for you to tidy up. It doesn't respect locked doors. It just enters. And

the terrifying part. But it's also the freeing part, because it means you can stop pretending you're impressive. You're not that big of a deal. You can stop being afraid of being found out, because somebody will always find out. Grace basically already sees it, and still loves you anyways, and it's the premise of grace, unmerited favor.

So meanwhile, my son is across town learning how to weld. He's learning how to join two pieces of metal by melting them together through burning fire. And this isn't gentle work. There's heat, there's sparks, sometimes a few burns, which he definitely complains about those. But once the metal cools and bonds, it's stronger than it was before. Which is pretty amazing, actually. I'm kind of envious of his journey in learning to weld. So when I told him what happened,

Starbucks, we laughed and the perfect teenage, experience of watching your dad be completely embarrassed And honestly, that laugh, I think, was more bonding for us than anything. Not because I was so wise and composed anything eloquent, but because he saw me as human and broken like everybody else. He saw me being in an embarrassing situation and

That's it. We just laughed. Sometimes laughter is the welding torch that joins people together in humility. Life works the same way. There's heat, embarrassment, heartbreak, failure, and it melts all the hard edges sometimes or grinds it down. It exposes the weak parts of us. But as it does that, it also fuses what's really stronger in us. Maybe that's why the scriptures say God refines us like gold, because refinement isn't polite.

And it's not really pretty. It's hot, loud and comfortable. But when the smoke clears out, something in you is much more pure, much more solid, much more real and real enough to hold the weight of real life. for a long time, I thought maturity meant keeping the door locked, being prepared, always composed.

Now, I think it means knowing what to do when the door is open, And you can scramble to shut it, like I did. You can hide, defend, or explain yourself, or you can take a breath, laugh, and say, yep, that's me. Midlife, mid-roll, mid-lesson, mid-flush. It's not failure. It's just being honest in real life. Real life's not clean.

just like going to the bathroom. And the people I trust the most aren't the ones who never mess up. They're the ones who've survived exposure and didn't let it harden them. They're the ones who can be present in real life and real situations and have real relationship. They've learned to stay human when life walks in without knocking. So maybe this is the invitation for you out there in

audio, video, land. It's not to get better at hiding. It's to become more comfortable at just being seen. Because life's going to keep walking in no matter what you say about it. People will misunderstand you no matter how much you try to communicate. They will misunderstand me today no matter how much I think about these messages that I give out on this podcast. Grace will interrupt you. Loss will undo you. Joy will catch you off guard.

And every single time you face the same choice. Do I continue to rebuild this illusion of control? Or do I stay open, vulnerable, exposed, human, and let the heat weld me into something stronger, something, I don't know, more. When you stay open, you get fused to truth. You get fused to love. That's pretty cool.

And those bonds forged in humility, they don't come apart because people really know who you are in those moments. So maybe take a minute right now or this week, think about the last time life walked in on you. The moment that felt too raw, too revealing or too awkward. What if that wasn't really about humiliation, but maybe what it was was more of an invitation? What if it was the exact heat required to shape you?

into someone more free, more open, more real, more yourself.

Because life never knocks. And never asks permission. And maybe that's mercy. Maybe because if it did, most of us would never open the door. We'd never open up. We'd never be vulnerable. So yeah, the next time the door swings open, unexpectedly, don't panic. Take a breath, smile, and say, well, guess I forgot to lock it. Because being human is embarrassing.

And it's kind of holy too, isn't it? And holiness doesn't come from hiding, it comes from surviving the exposure and realizing you're still loved. You're still okay. You're still worthy. All right, well thanks for sitting with me today. If this made you laugh, cringe, breathe a little deeper, share it with somebody else who's walking life on life's terms. We're all just trying to live with the doors open, I hope. Until next time, stay grounded, stay real, and maybe check the lock.

before you sit down. And thank you as always for joining me on the voyage cast. Make sure you like, subscribe, share this embarrassing story with a friend and we'll see you next time. All right, thanks so much.