How To Be A Neighbor - Another Coffee Metaphor

Coffee that truly represents the farmer’s intentions goes through a careful, intentional process.  You may have seen stickers about direct trade on bags of beans (they are actually cleaned, dried and roasted cherry pits).  The claims these stickers are making refer mostly to treatment of the laborers that harvest and process coffee.  Most of the coffee growing, harvesting and processing... process takes place in parts of the world where employees are not required to pay good wages or offer working conditions that we here in our comfortable country would tolerate.  These are poor countries full of poor people.  The idea, particularly of direct trade is that the coffee buyers such as Stump Town Coffee work directly with the farmers to ensure both good pay and working conditions for laborers.  This is reflected in the cost of their coffee and absorbed by all the shops who serve it.  When you pay a bit more, you are sharing your wealth with those who worked to provide that hot, delicious cup.

There is however, another element of the harvesting process interesting to discuss as a thought provoking metaphor. 

Coffee plants have a long harvest season.  Coffee pickers who are paid according to the selfish interests of their employers paid by weight - the more coffee they pick, the more they get paid.  As a matter of course, they pick all the beans they can get their hands on without much regard to ripeness.  Of course, this (and many other factors) makes for a very inferior cup later.  Imagine eating a black berry or a blue berry that is still green on the vine.  A peach (in keeping to pits) does not develop its sweetness until the fruit begins to soften in the ripening process.  Under or over ripe fruit is just not ready.  It’s not right to pick it, eat it or get credit for it yet.  

I sat on the arm of the living room chair this morning, drinking my Indonesian pour over and thinking about what it means to be a neighbor.  I’m following along in the New Testament book of James as Starting Grounds Church goes through it for their Sunday morning study.  James (the author) is on the abrupt side.  He says my faith must produce action and it leaves me feeling harried.  Adding action is much better than stopping at agreement and contemplation.  I can’t say I believe something unless it is manifested in my life.  But still, there is a pressure - an unwanted, old compulsion that rises in me.  It is uncomfortable and unhealthy because it takes up room in my heart that has been emptied out and filled by Christ.  My natural inclination is always to earn the approval of Jesus - as well as anyone I share his message and my intentions with.  But I am approved.  The work has been done by Jesus... so sufficiently that I’m undone by it.  I’m weak with appreciation.  Anything I can do now is for him and gently directed and energized by his powerful life in me.  

When I fill up with nervous compulsion to act, it replaces the easy burden of responding to his guidance.  I do too much, I do the wrong things, I loose touch with his voice and presence and peace and strength.  I’m still designed and purposed for harvest though.  The easy burden requires that I finish my coffee, get out of the chair and do something.  I just need to “do it right” which I know is a terrible thing to say.  Really, that idea is what gets me all jittery - and/or the coffee.  

Here’s the thing; doing it right is no longer about my individual effort.  The end results are not depending on me alone.  I’m part of a much larger cast of characters who are all fit magically into a evolving story.  The writer sits at his old manual typewriter with his fingers dancing on keys - it clicks and whirs like a symphony.  We all are managing small, interconnected plot lines directed by the author.  This means, I only play the part I’ve been cast in.  I only do the work I’ve been given.  I understood the idea this morning in the context of coffee harvesting.

I don’t get paid anymore like an overworked, uncared for coffee harvester.  I don’t have to rush and grab everything I can, jamming it into my bushel basket so I can make enough to pay for my needs.  I get a fair wage for playing my part in the story with care and attention to the authenticity of my character.  And it’s no secret that I’m expected to unravel, stumbling and bungling along for the mirth of mean angels in the gallery.  I walk along with my creator and friend.  My most intimate ally in the story.  We talk and he points to the perfect fruit.  We enjoy the harvest together while grime gets under our nails and our feet get tired.  He’s not directing me like a recalcitrant grade schooler saying, 

“pick that one, that one, that one, no, not that one, I said no - and now you can’t put it back!  When are you going to figure this out?”   

Instead, we are partners in this effort, we go at a pace he sets that allows for much more than just harvesting.  We rest and work together and the work brings joy and satisfaction.  It’s a joint discovery of each piece of fruit and its beauty and potential.  Much of the time he is listening to me, watching me (not micro-managing) while I pick and I get to point out a particularly juicy cherry.  His attention is full and generously focused on me, our time together, our work, and the wonder of the garden we are present in.  

Most of the beans get left to harvest later.  Some are picked by birds or nibbled by bees.  Some fall of before they are picked.  I am only to pick those that are ready - and he helps me to know which are most ready.  That is all I am responsible for.  

It is the same with being a good neighbor with an important message.  My role is along side the author.  He shows me who, when and where.  I just reach out and offer his invitation.  He, Jesus, is responsible for the reception of his message.  

If you, like me, tend to get overwhelmed by the magnitude of the harvest.  Remember, Jesus did not heal or preach to everyone.  He left towns that would not listen.  His disciples, filled with his Spirit, shook dust off their feet in unreceptive towns and walked past blind beggars.  It is not our job to save all, not our job to save at all.  We are to love who he leads us to, the way he has given us to love - that is all.  The rest is up to him and the rest of the cast he directs.