The first time I drank coffee, it was for a boy I liked.
I was a sophomore in college. Doing my best to just get by in terms of life
and school with the added problem of “cancer” in the mix. I was on my way out of the Dining Commons,
having just finished my iodine free meal all alone...and he was on his way
in. He asked where I was headed and if I
was in a hurry. He’d love to catch up on
life. He noted I was on my way out but
did I have time for some coffee? Had I
tried this coffee? It was so good! It was a mix, he knew, but seriously some
good stuff. I was short on friends and I
wasn’t in his “inner circle” but he was a solid addition to mine. Not to mention I was not at all about to turn
down an opportunity to chat with the guy I called “friend” but had also been
secretly crushing on for the last couple years.
I agreed.
Now...I had drunk coffee before. Floofy coffee that was
mostly cappuccino. And...desperate
Thursday camp coffee...containing a handful of sugars and at least as many
creams per cup. You know, the kind to
help one survive at the end of a marathon week.
But I wouldn’t have called myself a “coffee drinker”...
We walked over to the beverage bar and he poured himself
some coffee. I took a stryofoam cup and
filled mine. And paused. I couldn’t add any cream because of the
precarious iodine content it undoubtedly contained. And I wasn’t about to add sugar without
cream. I sipped. Black.
He was right. Not the worst stuff... although it was bitter and hot and
I didn’t know if I was totally up for the challenge. I looked at him, smiled, and held my coffee. I continued to sip.
I recall not moving very far from the beverage bar. I have
no idea why. I’m sure we must have drove
people insane. But we chatted. He filled up his cup at least once more and I
continued to sip on mine, black. All the
while smiling and listening to him talk about, well, I don’t fully remember but
I do know it included Ghost Busters.
I remember later telling a friend proudly I drank my first
cup of coffee. I think I even called and
told my dad. I didn’t tell them I did it
for the boy I liked. That I drank my
first cup of coffee for a boy...
It was the first of many.
Cups of coffee that is.
Boy removed.
Although it would have happened eventually.
The coffee that is.
A year later and I found myself in Uganda . Coffee is a major export. When we had the chance to drink real coffee
(some areas it was ALL exported and natives drank Nescafe. I have to be pretty desperate for that)...it
was always rich and delicious. Milk, however, was in short supply. And sugar was always a dark cane sugar. Not exactly the mixture you put in
coffee. I first drank coffee for a boy...but
Uganda
taught me to love it...
I first drank coffee for a boy...
But eventually I would have made it there on my own. If not Uganda then something else. Because I never hated coffee and I really love coffee now. If I wasn’t going
to love coffee (unlikely end: my grandmother Baas used to talk of her 24 cups a
day in her prime, it was literally in my blood...), no boy would have been able
to change my mind; no matter how long I had crushed on him. But for me and coffee? It was just a matter
of time.
HOWEVER, it took the boy to show me, to “make” me do what I
was going to want to do anyway.
Now coffee...coffee isn’t necessarily a “should”...not
anything important in the long run (legitimate claims to it being the elixir of
life aside), but other things in life are. Now, there are certainly things we
do for others which shouldn’t be done. Compromising the essence of who we are
and who God created us to be for another is a generally bad idea. (I know about
Peer Pressure – I went through DARE). And yet, sometimes, we need people to
remind us of what we ought to do to reorient us around what we want to do.
I do this with running.
When I wake up in the morning, I have zero desire to jump on the
elliptical or (depending on the location) throw on a pair of tennis shoes. No part of me does. My bed has the ideal number of blankets – for
one. Generally it takes a snooze and a
pep talk; generally I have to convince myself it something I ought to do. By
the time I’m done, however, I am glad I did.
I feel more awake and often less stiff and like I am better ready for
the day. Despite what I told the first pep talk, I had wanted to...but the desire came out of an “ought”.
I saw that phrase “ought to remind of want” in my counseling
text book for my most recent grad class.
The author was discussing forgiveness.
The fact that Jesus instructs it.
We can’t ignore it. That for
believers it’s something we typically genuinely want to do but it often takes
someone reminding us, helping to show us and guide us to it, to remember that
we want it as well.
I am intrigued by the idea of “ought” being not just a
directive – but a relationship.
While, again, there are times we do things in and for
relationship which are more or less compromising...
I’m reminded of all the times relationship helped guide me
into the person I needed to be.
Wanted to be.
In and for relationship I drank coffee and jumped off of
cliffs.
In relationship I was propelled to go through my extra ear
piercing as a freshman in college and the tattoo I had been toying with getting
as a 20-something.
In relationship I’ve written and developed things I didn’t
know existed inside of me...
In relationship I have experienced God in the most real and
awesome ways.
In relationship I have been given the picture of what
steadfastness and commitment and sacrificial love look like.
In relationship I was given examples of the transformative
power of forgiveness, prayer, devotion.
In relationship I was encouraged to stick with projects and
decisions which would have otherwise been too difficult or terrifying to
endeavor on my own.
What makes me smirk is the fact I was willing to step into
something uncomfortable for a boy I liked. (That’s not the part that makes me
smirk – okay a little but not the contemplative smirk with which I now finish
this string of thoughts). What makes me
smirk is that we, as humans, are oft willing to go to incredible lengths for
those we like/love/care about. If I
claim to like Jesus, love Him more than anything or anyone, should His “oughts”
not be compelling? Should my
relationship with him not lead me into things I’m not so sure about, lacking in
true commitment to, but truly and honestly desire? Should not forgiveness, love, service,
thanks, prayer, joy, hope...all be actions which, though sometimes
uncomfortable, are the things I’m propelled into for the sake of the One I love
the most? Might not those oughts which stir us become wants as well? And if my relationship with Christ moves me
to such things – should not my relationship with others draw them to similar
ends?
I first drank coffee for a boy.
What relationships will I allow to lead me...
And to lead others...
To such life giving extremes...
To far greater Life-giving streams...?
