Bitter Coffee and Bing Crosby

Growing up, I remember the distinct aroma every morning. Coffee was always made well before breakfast was considered. After all, the coffee bean was the most important food group in our household. It seemed like my parents drank no less than a pot a day. I loved the smell, but the taste? Gag. I couldn't imagine ANYONE drinking this crap, much less enjoying it so much that they drink it by the potful?! I was convinced my parents had no tastebuds. I stuck to my beverages of my choice, the ones that were sweet and tangy: Mellow Yellow and Vault Zero ( which gave me a nightmare of cavities, by the way...). Hot chocolate and cappuccinos were pretty high on that list as well.

Back in our dating days (eleven years ago, believe it or not), Nathan and I took a road trip. We were on a trip to visit Nathan's grandmother, Grandma Chinski, whom I had never met. When we finally arrived at our destination in good 'ol Arkansas, I immediately fall in love with this beautiful cabin. It was warm and cozy. Beautifully decorated. His grandparents welcomed me as if I were one of their own. We had a great time that evening, just sitting, talking and getting to know each other. The next morning, I awoke to that all familiar smell of coffee brewing. Ahhhhh! The beautiful smell of coffee... if only it didn't taste like death!

As I walk down the stairs from the cozy loft where I slept, Grandma handed me a freshly-poured cup. As everyone around me is sipping their warm cup of joe, I stood there, wondering if I should inform her that I am by no means, a "coffee-drinker." She must've noticed my face, because she quickly asked me, "How do you like it? Cream? Sugar?" Non-existent was the first thing that came to mind, but in a room full of veteran coffee-drinkers I wasn't sure how kindly they would take to that opinion. I responded, "Well, honestly, I've never had a cup I can actually drink. It's nothing but bitter to me." She smiled and walked over to the cabinet and pulled out some small canisters. After a few quick shakes and a stir, she walked back over to me, cup in hand and a confident smile on her face. She implored me to "just try one sip." I knew I had experimented with coffee, time and time again, no to avail. But, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. I took the cup from her hand. It definitely looked lighter in color with cute little foamy swirls. If nothing else, it looked and smelled pretty. I put the cup to my mouth and prepared my face to appear less like I had just tasted a sour lemon and more like I kind of enjoy it. I take the smallest sip imaginable. Hmmmm. It isn't bitter. I must take another sip to ensure I haven't lost my mind. Then another. And another. This isn't bitter at all. It actually tastes.....gulp.....GOOD!

From that day on, my love for coffee began. It was warm, comforting and full of flavor. The early days of having a little coffee with my creamer quickly passed as my tastebuds became more acclimated to the flavor. Now, I could almost (I said "almost") drink it black and call it "good." Occasionally, while sipping my coffee, I'll think back to that morning with Grandma in the kitchen and my heart is once again thankful for her willingness to make that perfect cup.

Christmas has a way of stirring your heart to old memories, especially those of grandparents. I hear Bing Crosby playing in the background and I think of my Grandpa. He is gone now, but I still carry those wonderful memories of Christmastime at the Cabin. Late nights watching Bing Crosby movies by the warm fire. One morning, I woke earlier than everyone else and snuck down the hallway to see if my Papa was up yet. The fire had died. I was cold and he was the best fire-maker I knew of. I glanced in his bedroom and saw him sitting on the bed, reading the Word. I asked what he was reading, as if it wasn't obvious. With a chuckle in his tone, he said, "The book that I live in...Romans." I didn't think much of it, being a youngster, and went on my merry way.

The older I got, the more I found the Book of Romans to be a bitter pill for me. I didn't understand it. It made me question too much. My Papa must've been off his rocker. I preferred the sweeter side of the Lord: the sugary, tangy parts, fuzzy-feeling parts of Him. Forgiveness, protection, blessings... you know, all those good "churchy" things that make us feel warm and fuzzy inside. But His Sovereignty? His prevailing purpose over mine? His Will triumphing over my own feeble humanity? His choosing me and not I choosing Him? That wasn't sweet. It was bitter. It was angering. It didn't go down smoothly for me, at all. Verses in Romans like verse fifteen, " For he says to Moses, “I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion,” or verse eighteen, "So then he has mercy on whomever he wills, and he hardens whomever he wills." It made God seem ugly to me. It felt wrong. So, I avoided it.

It took time. Years. Scripture. Hardships. Prayer. Sanctifying...until one day, the once bitter pill in Romans that seemed so cold and rigid, the one I refused to swallow for so long, became like a warm blanket to my soul. It took the hands and heart of a grandmother to serve that coffee in just the right way. It takes the work of the Holy Spirit, at just the right time, to reveal Truth to our souls. Just as Grandma prepared that cup of coffee with love, confident she had just the right recipe. So too, the Lord loves us well, in that He reveals Truth to our hearts just when we need it, when He sees fit.

Do I still have questions? Sure. Does everything make perfect sense to my human mind? Of course, not. But the gift been given to me is Rest. Resting in the Sovereignty of my Lord who LOVES me. Resting in the fact the He knows best. Resting in His love for me that began long before I was ever born. That is where my soul finds rest.

I believe my Grandpa saw the beauty in Romans.  A comfort in the Lord's Sovereignty. I believe He prayed for me to see it one day as well. He passed away before I had the chance to share with him how the Lord turned what I saw as bitterness into something lovely. But one day... we will be together again. And I'll bet he will pour me a warm cup of delicious coffee. We will open the Word together and weep at the beauty in it with Jesus by our side. What a glorious day that will be!