On Friday, just before going to the wedding, we stopped at a new village in our people group that I had never been to before. It reminded me of many other villages in the people group, except for one thing. One awful thing.
One thing that I had never done before and hope to never have to do again. One thing that I would have been plenty happy if I had never even done the first time. Coffee. I had to drink my first cup of coffee.
A glass brought to me by grimy hands of a man who had just come from the mine, so there were fingerprints and grime all over it. Inside was a brown drink made from instant coffee grounds and probably some sugar (though it didn’t taste like it), with lots of foam on the top.
It tasted like burnt something or another, and I would have rather poured it out on the ground, but with eyes on me and nowhere to go and hide, I had to drink it all down. And so I did.
When Jesus called us as the church to bring His good news to the ends of the earth, He didn’t say that it would always be easy or fun. He also didn’t say that it would always be yummy. But He asked us to follow Him and trust Him, so, one sip at a time, that’s what I did.