"In speaking of this desire for our own far-off country, which we find in ourselves even now, I feel a certain shyness. I am almost committing an indecency. I am trying to rip open the inconsolable secret in each one of you--the secret that hurts so much that you take your revenge on it by calling it names like Nostalgia and Romanticism and Adolescence; the secret also which pierces with such sweetness that when, in very intimate conversation, the mention of it becomes imminent, we grow awkward and affect to laugh at ourselves; the secret we cannot hide and we cannot tell, though we desire to do both. We cannot tell it because it is a desire for something that has never actually appeared in our experience. We cannot hide it because our experience is constantly suggesting it, and we betray ourselves like lovers at the mention of a name. Our commonest expedient is to call it beauty and behave as if that had settled the matter. Wordsworth's expedient was to identify it with certain moments in his own past. But all this is a cheat. If Wordsworth had gone back to those moments in the past, he would not have found the thing itself, but only the reminder of it; what he remembered would turn out to be itself a remembering. The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing. These things--the beauty, the memory of our own past--are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself, they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited..."
As I was trying to fall asleep tonight, I found myself thinking about this passage in C.S. Lewis' "The Weight of Glory." My memory was sparked upon the recognition that part of the reason I love drinking coffee is because I watch a lot of TV shows in which the characters love drinking coffee. Beside the facts that coffee has caffeine, that I more or less grew up on coffee, and that I really do love the taste, a large part of the appeal for me is that it makes me feel like I'm a part of something special. When, on TV shows like Friends, Gilmore Girls, or Samantha Who, the characters have a coffee shop that they frequent or a coffee addiction that they feed, I find within myself a desire to be in that coffee shop with them, talking about my life over a cup of joe. Laying in my bed and mulling over this revelation, I remembered the above C.S. Lewis excerpt.
Though it may sound silly, I think my love of drinking coffee and my recognition that a large part of that obsession stems from seeing it on TV parallels what Lewis talks about in regards to humanity's desire and deep, deep longing for Paradise, for Heaven, and ultimately for God. In fact, my very desire for coffee and my association of drinking coffee with feeling special or feeling complete in some way might in and of itself be a hint of the unity, the satisfaction, and the love that we all seek and which ultimately can only be found in God through the blood of Christ.
But even if it is only ultimately found in God, He has been gracious enough to give us hints of satisfaction and love and completion on earth. In everything from the beauty of the natural world to the institution of marriage; from a really delicious burrito to a really fantastic work of literature, God is at work. The pleasure that we derive from these experiences is a bit of the joy and satisfaction of God. Not to say "God is in the burrito"--but the joy or satisfaction or contentment that you get as a result of eating that burrito is a reflection (and a poor one, at that) of the joy or satisfaction or contentment that comes from a relationship with God.
This is why the Psalmist writes, "O taste and see that the LORD is good!" Or why Paul writes "In everything, whether you eat or drink, do all to the glory of God." Because everything in our lives--everything thing we taste, everything we see, even everything we eat and drink--is all meant to point us back to the loving God who is Himself exquisite, satisfying, fulfilling. Christ Himself speaks of salvation and eternal life as "a fountain of water welling up into eternal life"; those who drink of this water "shall never thirst."
Salvation is an experience, a day to day, in and out, experience with the living God of the universe. It is not a moment in a church with your eyes closed lifting up your hand at the altar call, though that may be its beginning. It is life--it is physical, tangible, even tantalizing. The more we have of it, the more we have of the goodness, the sweetness, the lovingkindnesses of the LORD, the more we want. This world, as C.S. Lewis shows, is all one big, delicious treat, meant to bring about the longing for God's goodness that we were all created to need. We need His goodness, we need His mercy to follow us all the days of our lives. And the more we see it and savor it, the more we'll want it--the more we'll want Him.
So go ahead--enjoy your cup of coffee. But remember that the best part of waking up is not Folger's in your cup--it's Jesus Christ in your heart :)
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