Now that it’s nearly fall and turning cold, I wanted to take a moment to celebrate a comfort of life that we might easily pass over: tea.
Now, let me just say that I did not begin life as a tea advocate. I paid no attention to tea until very recently. Now that I spend most of my days as a desk jockey, often completing writing projects that involve some measure of my limited mental energy, I find it behooves me to locate whatever legal stimulants I can find to push me on in my work. I observed certain people close to me drinking large amounts of tea, once decided to give it a try, and found it to my liking (Photo: NYT).
So the road that led me to tea was a pragmatic one. I concede this. Yet in becoming a tea drinker, I have come to realize that tea is in fact a most pleasurable good. It is hot; it is often spiced, or at least flavored; it takes a while to cool down, and thus breeds anticipation; it is not heavy at all on the stomach and is in many forms good for you; and, as mentioned, it gives one a little burst of energy if one so desires.
It is difficult in this world to find a similarly enjoyable and yet similarly pleasant good. All too often, the things that we like, that we gravitate toward, are in some way bad for us. We must parse them out, have them very little, and feel (justly) guilty if we over-indulge. Not so with tea. Provided one keeps one’s caffeine down, it is the friend that stays by our side, the companion that constantly warms and that never leaves us unhappy.
So often, we chase the big and expensive things in life. We assume that because they are big and expensive they will yield the most possible happiness, the greatest possible pleasure. Yet as I make my way through life, I increasingly find that it is not necessarily the big and expensive that bring pleasure, but the small and inexpensive. For the satisfaction it brings, tea requires little sacrifice.
Now, I don’t think these theological thoughts to myself every time I drink tea. I wish I did. I don’t. But I am aware that tea and what others have called the “simple pleasures of life” are in fact what they claim to be. They are simple, pleasant, and they, in small amounts, combine to fill life full of happiness. You don’t need big and expensive to find joy. In fact, those who chase that which is big and expensive often find happiness elusive.
We need the small things. A good scone. A hot cup of tea. Time with the kids on the floor playing beside them. A conversation with one’s spouse on the porch, watching rain come down. A long hour or two with excellent literature, the kind that doesn’t make you feel guilty for slowing down and re-reading. A carefully crafted sermon that simultaneously convicts, teaches, and exhilarates. A walk with a friend. Another cup of tea.
And a Savior who has given us that which is simplest and that which is most pleasant: life, eternal life, overflowing with the experience of the unmediated grace of God.