Below is an excerpt from my book Coffeehouse Contemplative: Spiritual Direction for the Everyday.
When my family sits down to eat dinner, my son is very particular about the position of the food on his plate. He has a standing decree that each element making up the meal on any given evening must not touch any other at any time. He sets up invisible barriers that each must not cross, lest an incident erupt that echoes throughout the house. I look upon his insistence with some understanding, as I erected my own food boundaries when I was his age: the macaroni and cheese was evermore to be separate from the green beans, and neither was to come in contact with the chicken. If my son now, or my younger self then, was ever asked to explain why our dining experience had to be this way, I’m not sure that either of us could really venture much of an explanation other than that’s how we prefer it to be.
We face the same tendency and temptation to section off parts of our lives, one from another. Some of this is in the name of observing healthy boundaries as we attempt to avoid bringing work-related issues home, lest they encroach on our time spent with family or otherwise in leisure. Likewise, we may not wish to bring personal issues to the workplace, as they may infringe on our ability to do our job well. Some crossover is inevitable, such as considering how a decision at one will affect the other. In general, however, we tend to consider the best approach in most cases to keep these items separate on our plate, for reasons that make more sense than mere habit or preference.
In the case of spirituality, such a practice may be more complicated. In public, communal, and civic situations, the case has been made often for why one’s personal spiritual beliefs, or the beliefs of one group, should not be privileged over others. On occasions past and present, this has lessened the standing, contributions, and at times the humanity of those whose beliefs (or non-beliefs) differ from the person or group enjoying special treatment. In this way, an argument for compartmentalization of one’s plate makes sense and may be encouraged.
At a personal level, the erecting of boundaries between one’s own spirituality and the rest of one’s life may be to our own detriment. Some may be content to have that one sacred hour on Sunday serve as the extent of one’s spiritual life, the tiny God-box in the corner of the soul that gets opened once a week and on special occasions. Spirituality is for the entire self, for our lives of work and family, of business and play. The gift of God’s presence graces all of it, meant to affect everything else on our plate even if we prefer that other parts remain separate.
We have spent this first chapter exploring some ways people conceive spirituality, yet have not ventured a concise working definition. Here, finally, one is presented: spirituality is our sense of connection to something larger than ourselves (namely, for Christians, God as revealed in Jesus), and also our sense of self as a participant in that larger reality. If we give it proper attention and proper space to grow and thrive, it is meant to infuse every other part of our identity, all else that makes up who we are and our view of the world.
The possibilities for such meaning-making are all around us; on everything else on our plate. Everything has the potential to be sacramental; to help point us toward God’s presence around us and within us, as well as help point to who we are and meant to be as recipients of and participants in it. Rather than for a sacred time and place set apart, spirituality transcends the boundaries we attempt to set around it, as that is how it may thrive.
To consider what this looks like, imagine standing in line at a coffeehouse, waiting to place your order. People are behind you and in front of you, awaiting the same opportunity. The man behind you is noticeably agitated, occasionally letting out an exaggerated audible sigh while glancing at his watch. You may take note of your own reaction to him, and how your possible feelings of irritation affect your relationship to God and to your fellow patron. It may also be that you feel convicted by what may be causing anxiety in his life that goes beyond a long wait for coffee.
You get to the front of the line, where you encounter the barista, a young woman who after taking your order appears to be fighting back tears as she turns away to begin preparing it. You caught hints of this from further back in line, but now can see more clearly that this is what has been happening. You may take a moment to wonder who is loving her through whatever difficulty she is facing.
After receiving your order, you sit down at a nearby table. There is a group of teenagers seated near you obviously enjoying their time together, their laughter and jokes at times filling the room. You may take a moment to consider God’s presence in enjoyment shared in community, and even give thanks for similar groups of which you are a part.
You notice an older gentleman in ragged clothing in the corner nursing his own coffee and may wonder how he got here and where he is going; who might serve as God’s representative to him through acts of kindness or more regular social services. At another table, a mother with two young children silently share deli sandwiches, the woman in particular with a strained nervousness behind her eyes. What are these people’s stories, and how is God a part of each, consciously or otherwise?
For every person whom you see or hear in this place, for every interaction and encounter, there comes the opportunity to consider how God’s offer of grace is a part of the moment, whether every participant is aware of it or not. And this is but one series of such experiences that takes place in the span of an hour, far removed from the usual hourly worship experience either treasured weekly or rejected long ago. Nurturing our spirituality makes it possible for a coffeehouse to become a sanctuary and other patrons our fellow contemplative pilgrims. If our awareness of our participation in God’s presence may be deepened with something so ordinary as a cup of coffee, how much more might be possible on the other sections of your plate?
Coffeehouse Contemplative: Spiritual Direction for the Everyday is available on Amazon.
Jeffrey A. Nelson 