December 7th, 2008
Anyone who knows me and hangs out with me for very long learns that I will give just about anything for a good, well brewed cup of coffee or a good tea. I do not care much for the everyday stuff that passes as coffee, I like the good stuff. The lattes, the tea’s that are home brewed blends that I pick up at the farmers market and if bought by the pound would equate to a days wages. Those are the things I like. It might be surprising to know then that my first cup of coffee was consumed at about the age of 10, it was in my great grandmothers kitchen, and it was terrible. It was the freeze dried Sanka stuff, and she had the habit of cooking it on the stove instead of brewing it. All the pungent flavors and aromas are brought out in a hurry when you do that to coffee that already has been denuded of almost all it’s essence.
The thing about that coffee was, I loved it. Why? Because I felt as if I was being initiated into adult hood by sitting around the coffee table, drinking coffee that I did not know tasted bad because I had no good frame of reference for it. I was a man, and for that brief time no one could tell me any different. Thinking back on what I drank as coffee then makes me quiver and shudder. That was 21 years ago and my tastes are now much more “sophisticated”.
My first experience with Christ was similar to that of the coffee. I was irresistibly drawn by what being a Christian meant, it met a heart felt need and desire within me and it brought me a great deal of relationship, it made me feel like an adult. When I accepted Christs invitation to partake of His love I drank it down, I drank it like a hot cup of coffee for the first time. I did not know how to saver the aroma, how to do all the fancy things that Christians did. I just know that I walked into a youth meeting one day not knowing my need, and left that night realizing that a need I did not want to acknowledge had somehow been satisfied. I was content, I was at peace, and I had a relationship that has never quit.
One of the things that I hope never happens is that my tastes get to “sophisticated” for Christ. I have at times dabbled in other religions in the name of strengthening my relationship with Christ, only to find that my relationship with Jesus suffered. Not only that, but my relationship with the world suffered.
I have been meeting with a few people and sharing my heart and hearing theres. I treasure the time, but I have realized that they have been neglecting their walk with Christ and are trying to intellectualize Christ into a box. What they do not realize is that box is a pine box, one made to be burried and never seen again. I fall into that same trap easily though. I love big ideas, I love to discuss Christ in culture, I love Theology, I love just about any discipline that means getting to the root of people and discerning motives, discerning their place in the world and then helping them into wholeness. In short, I have a Pastors heart.
The acerbic nature of the first cup of coffee I drank reminds me of the life with Christ. It is often very good, and sometimes it is a little rough, other times it is so bitter that when you partake your toes go numb and your body rejects any notion of ever doing that again. However, with time, practice, patience, and the right equipment your coffee gets better and better. It gets to the point that you find yourself in need of that coffee in a regular basis. It becomes a daily part of your diet, and it is good.
The first coffee houses and commerical usage of coffee were in Europe. To go and to meet in a coffee house was to go and talk and share ideas and to make plans. The plans were often plans to subvert the government, overthrow dictatorships, and to start shaping this new found idea called democracy. If you were in a coffee house for any length of time you would catch the eyes of the ruling party, and quite possibly be arrested. People paid a high price for their coffee, but it was the ideals and ideas that were birthed there that people paid the price for. These truths that we hold as self evident today were truths birthed in the pains of a coffee house.
When Christianity was first birthed and the word Christian was passed around it was not a good term. To be called a Christian meant that you had turned your back on Jewish customs, it meant that you dare to think that this man from Nazareth was the Christ who had returned to fulfill prophecy. In short, you turned your back on your government, your family, your way of life…all just to follow the teachings of a Rabbi who was considered a dangerous nut job by the ruling class. Out of that adversity grew the Christian faith. The faith that bleeds, the faith that has teeth. Out of a cup of coffee came the seeds of democracy, the philosophy of Russeau, Montesque and so many others. Out of both came the seeds of change, and the change was good, with time.
Next time you go to church with your latte in hand, or you buy one from the counter conviniently outside of the door of your church, remember the cost involved in that cup of coffee. Remember the change it represents. Then, remember what it means to be called Christian. It means being revolutionary, it means following the call of the creator anywhere it might lead. It means being set apart for a cause. It means being different then the rest. It means having to answer so many questions and listening to all the “good” advise that tells you not to do it. But will you? Will you forsake all to advance a cause? Will you advance the call of Christ on your life?
~Selah~
