25 years ago espresso culture was just beginning to spread from the coasts across the nation. In those days Rapid City had no Starbucks, no Dunn Brothers, and only a couple of parking lot espresso stands. In those days the language of espresso wasn’t on the tip of every tongue and there wasn’t an espresso shop on every corner. Back then my friend and colleague Farley Maxwell was pastor of 1st Congregational Church in Vancouver, Washington. He wrote about the experience of going through a drive-up espresso shop with his daughter. He might not have been fully up-to-date with the lingo. He referred to the barista as an “espressista.” He commented that the drive up had once been a fotomat booth. Then again, youth of today certainly wouldn’t know what a fotomat is. He did, however, get a pretty good representation of the lingo of espresso in his quote of his daughter’s order: “One double tall decaf latte with skimmed milk nutra-sweet and no whipped cream; a single caffeinated cappuccino with light vanilla whipped cream and nutmeg.” He spoke of the newly evolving espresso jargon. He also reported that “as the clerk made change, the person in the car behind us honked impatiently - caffeine deficiency no doubt.”

He ended his little report in the church newsletter with a parable: “The kingdom of God is like an espresso bar . . .” Then he added this commentary: “What? You don’t get it? That’s alright. People didn’t always understand Jesus’ parables either. Next time try you latte with a twist.”

For some reason that isn’t entirely clear my colleague’s article on the front page of the church newsletter is something that I’ve kept for over 25 years. I know that is a sign that I’m a hoarder. In my own defense, we are going through the paper in our home and decreasing the inventory significantly. File cabinets are being emptied and recycling bins are filling up.

Once in a while, however, it is interesting to look at some saved piece of paper. In the case of the newsletter from the Vancouver church, it was a reminder of an old friendship and the collegiality of another job in another place at another time. It was also a reminder of how much times change. My grandchildren, who have been through the drive-up lane at coffee shops many times and who know the difference between Whidbey Coffee and Woods Coffee and Bigfoot Coffee, wouldn’t understand the impatience of someone waiting while change was being counted. Their parents don’t pay for coffee with cash - they use cards and sometimes just hold up their phone to a scanner.

The shifts in language and culture affect how we talk about a lot of things. When I started in the ministry I never imagined that I would be working out a deal to have a credit card kiosk in the church for people to make donations. Such a thing was in the realm of fantasy. Credit cards were for buying gas on long trips and were seldom used in everyday life. I also would not have been able to imagine paying more than $5 for a cup of coffee. These days, I meet people in the high-end coffee shops, not because I need expensive coffee, but because that is where the people I need to meet gather.

Jesus went out to the people and met them where they were - in their everyday lives. And he used images from their everyday lives such as the care of animals, travel in dangerous territory, the ways seeds grow and the like to speak of the nature of God’s realm. He used symbolic language because there are no direct words adequate to describe God.

I visited two different people in the hospital this week who were at a loss for words to describe their experience. Both had experienced life-threatening circumstances and could have died from their medical conditions. Both were grateful not only to be alive, but also for the love and support of family and community. Both were grateful for the scientific and technical advances of modern medicine. As they struggled to find the right words to express to me how they were feeling, I became aware of how important it is for us to be able to use language as symbol. Metaphor and simile are language tools that help us to speak of that which is beyond the reach of our language.

We know that God’s realm isn’t the same as hidden treasure in a field. It isn’t the same as a pearl of great price. It isn’t the same as the old and new treasures in a household. It isn’t the same as bread dough with leaven or a mustard seed, or a farmer throwing seed on the ground, or the net thrown into the sea by a fisherman. But all of these metaphors were ways that Jesus talked about God’s realm in the Bible. We know that God’s realm isn’t the same as an earthly kingdom, but we often use that language to speak of something that is beyond the power of our words to express.

My friend’s parable of an espresso bar is one of the images that probably won’t be meaningful to those of another generation. It probably requires one to have lived through the rapid growth of espresso as a product and a culture in the Pacific Northwest in the 1990’s. At least some knowledge of that culture helps. Many of the words we use to talk about God make sense only in a particular context. I say prayers in the hospital that are different from the ones I say in other locations and other contexts.

The kingdom of God is like the community that gathers for worship: diverse and wonderful and sometimes a bit fragile. We know that our worship isn’t perfect. We know that we aren’t the only expression of faith. But our gathering points us towards something that is bone ourselves and to our part in something bigger than ourselves. We don’t always understand how this works, but we return again and again because we know that we are more faithful together than we would be as separate individuals.

And, by the way, if you bring your espresso to church, that’s OK too.

Copyright (c) 2019 by Ted E. Huffman. I wrote this. If you would like to share it, please direct your friends to my web site. If you'd like permission to copy, please send me an email. Thanks!