As some of you know, I like coffee. It’s not that I’m addicted or anything. It’s just that I’d rather jump headfirst into the Grand Canyon than give up coffee for Lent. But since this is a season of self-examination, I decided to look inward at my coffee consumption and share some possible signs of overindulgence. Think of this as a public service announcement for the soul.
Signs You Drink Too Much Coffee
Your sermons all begin with pulpit pounding — except it’s actually your heart.
You’ve seriously considered using holy water to brew your coffee.
Even when you’re at the altar with arms spread wide in the orans position, your right hand looks like it’s still clutching a coffee mug.
Instead of a cup of water on the pulpit, the altar guild places a cup of coffee.
You keep the same type of camel-back hydration system used by ultra-marathoners under your chasuble.
Rather than a prayer, every church meeting starts with a refill.
“Coffee Hour?” Which hour isn’t?
You refuse sacraments to people who drink decaf.
When you read Hebrews, you keep wondering when he is going to brew the coffee.
You’ve asked the sexton to move one of the giant silver coffee hour urns into your office.
You drink your coffee in the same style as your cassock: black.
The owner of the local coffee shop is seriously considering giving you a raise.
Hearing that Moses is walking on holy ground, your first thought is “I bet those grounds would make a terrific cup of coffee.”
Speaking of Moses, you still get really bummed out when you hear about his striking the rock and having water flow out rather than coffee.
You wouldn’t dream of subjecting your congregation to un-caffeinated sermon preparation.
On more than one occasion you’ve referred to the annual diocesan clergy conference as being Chock Full O’Nuts.
“Living water?” You’d prefer a freshly brewed cup of Guatemalan coffee.
You love facing the altar for the Nicene Creed since no one will see you sneak a sip out of your concealed travel mug.
You get excited when a parishioner beckons you to meet a newcomer named Joe only to realize it’s not a new coffee but actually someone named Joe.
When someone suggests serving you bad coffee at church you cry indignantly, “Maxwell’s House? This is God’s House!”