Pressing on into Lent
Photograph by Nathan Dumlao via Unsplash
Rev. Justin Cox
Lent is a season associated with deprivation. A 40-day stretch on the calendar that causes those like Mark Wahlberg, Chris Pratt, and Gwen Stefani to crack open the Hallow app and get their prayer on. In this high and holy period, Enneagram type fours spin The Cure’s “Disintegration” album one more time before calling it a night, and melancholy-filled souls empty Sephora shelves of any and all heavy eyeliner.
Give up. Let go. Surrender. Pray, fast, and give.
Swarms of the faithful do it all to draw closer to God.
Not me. Not this year. It hasn’t been like that in a while.
No, I’m worrying less about rejecting sweets or abstaining from alcohol and am instead continuing with a ritual I find meaningful. And before you think I’m advocating for several weeks of indulging in Cajun Mardi Gras celebrations, I’ll let you know I have no plans to don a mask, ride a horse, or petition neighbors for fresh chicken to go in my gumbo pot.
You might say what I’m intentionally deciding to focus on is relatively tame, maybe even lame, in nature. However, I would argue that the forthcoming practice centers me in a way bowing my head during a church-wide prayer rarely does.
I’m talking about making coffee.
Let me explain.
I cannot recall when the French press coffee maker showed up in our house, but I know it took at least a year before I tried to use it. Like so many things that gather dust on shelves, I believe I ignored the unfamiliar contraption out of sheer ignorance until finally, I worked up the nerve to ask my spouse, Lauren, “How in the world do you use this thing?”
Until this time, coffee was a drive-through obtained beverage. Home brewing was done with self-serving Keurig and a Senseo before that. Why did I feel the need to change? There were several reasons, but my budding interest in creation care was the biggest. Lauren and I were trying our hands at gardening, and learning that coffee grounds were highly beneficial in compost piles. Also, the number of Keurig cups I saw in our trash can made me wonder how this was hitting our bank account.
Lauren taught me how to use the French press, and with the exciting newness of a toy I had always had but just learned to play with, I bought my first bag of whole bean coarse ground coffee from a store. It didn’t take long for us to invest in a grinder and kettle to heat water.
I need to find the holy in my semi-dark kitchen while I wait to pour 12 ounces of consolation into my cup. I need to escape into whatever wilderness I can, away from it all, while the world appears to burn around me.
For the next few weeks, I learned that a standard press produces about two large cups of coffee. This meant we usually had to perform the act twice to have multiple cups to entice our bodies to wake up and confront the day. My mornings began as follows.
The Act of Pressing:
Pour/grind coffee beans.
Pour water into the kettle. Put kettle on.
Wash out the French press if we haven’t from the day before and transplant the ground beans.
Wait for the water to boil.
Pour water over ground beans and stir.
Wait several minutes before “pressing.”
Pour steaming hot liquid into a cup.
Celebrate the incarnate joy of flavorful explosion on your tastebuds.
Needless to say, it was a different experience than popping in a Keurig cup.
In a society where efficiency is valued, why do I continue to make coffee in such a way, and why am I imploring you to consider the same?
Maybe it’s because I believe making coffee in this manner allows for a baseline level of reflection, meaning you actually have to think about what you’re doing. You wait for the water to boil. You wait for the water to seep into the coffee grounds. Patience isn’t as much a virtue as a requirement. During this time, your mind is free to wander.
And yet, you cannot rest on your laurels; there’s too much at stake here. You still have to be present because several activities are going on at the same time. If you aren’t paying attention, a 10-15-minute process can turn into something a lot longer. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve kicked myself because I forgot to heat the water. Lauren has kicked me a time or two because of this miscalculation.
And as with other areas of life, being called to be present is never bad. Awareness helps us see where we are and where we want to be. I need these moments, as short as they might seem, where I can find them.
I need to find the holy in my semi-dark kitchen while I wait to pour 12 ounces of consolation into my cup. I need to escape into whatever wilderness I can, away from it all, while the world appears to burn around me.
And I need reminding that in the waiting, while I shuffle around in my robe, pouring water and grinding beans, I’m in the presence of the sacred and that what I’m doing, all that I am doing, helps me see that sacred in new and refreshing ways.
Here’s to consecrating coffee and stumbling around in the light of a new day. Cheers.
Justin Cox received his theological education from Campbell University and Wake Forest University School of Divinity. He is an ordained minister affiliated with the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship and enrolled in the Doctor of Ministry program at McAfee School of Theology. Opinions and reflections are his own.
The views expressed are those of the author and not necessarily those of American Baptist Home Mission Societies.
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