Tomorrow it will have been a week without coffee. That's right; once again, I've given it up for Lent. I've tried to think of something else, but there's not that much extravagance in my life that I can find something to give up for awhile. Sweets aren't important to me; I rarely eat candy, can forego cake without batting an eye; pie and cookies are nice, but I don't crave them. Given a choice between an extra helping of the main course or dessert, I'll take the dinner every time. Tobacco and alcohol? It's hard to give up something in which you don't already indulge.
Giving up riding my motorcycle would be a sacrifice, but wait; I've already done that! Too cold to ride this winter! I couldn't give up music without having to excuse myself from worship on Sundays. That's clearly counterproductive. TV? No problem, except for the news and weather report. Giving those up wouldn't be much of a sacrifice either, especially the way this winter's weather has beat us up. What's left? Time with my grandkids? Holding hands with my wife? Wearing clothes when I go outside? That would be a sacrifice this time of year, but I can't think of anyone who would be blessed by it.
So, I am back to coffee. I have never thought I'm addicted to it, but I've sure been feeling tired lately. Seven pm, and I'm ready for bed. I don't get headaches, so that's not a problem, but coffee isn't just something to keep me awake during the day; it's also a means of socialization. I drink tea, but it's not the same in a crowd or with a cookie. I know people who don't drink it at all; I study them to see what they do, but haven't yet figured out how they manage to get together for casual conversation. How can you eat a donut without a cup of coffee to dunk it in? Oh well; I'm once again learning how to socialize without it. I wonder if this is how the alcoholic feels when he goes on the wagon and his locus of socialization is gone. This is a lighthearted take on some serious business. Lent's sacrifices are designed to help us exercise spiritual control over our lives. Instead of having our bodies tell us what our priorities are, we tell our bodies what our priorities are, and food is not at the top of the list. Tonight I am grateful that Jesus didn't let the flesh tell his spirit who was in charge. He fasted forty days before beginning his ministry, and in the garden of Gethsemane, he took charge over a mind and body that was reluctant to face the agonies of the cross, and said, "Not my will be done, but thine." For that, I am thankful.
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