Instant Coffee Theology

Even the fancy one didn’t taste better!

I recently posted an Instagram story about buying instant coffee. I honestly cannot remember the last time I purchased instant coffee – though I suspect the first iPhone had yet to be released.

So, why did I buy it? Quite a few people thought it was for Tiramisu or some other dessert, a few thought it was to do with smoked meats (coffee does make a good rub!), and still a few others thought that Dalgona was on the cards.

The truth?

I bought it to drink it.

At least one cup.

For Mother’s Day I did something a little fun, and a bit indulgent. I picked up a specialty instant coffee for Steph. Sometimes her day begins much earlier than mine, and she doesn’t know how to use my coffee machine. So I figured on this special day to get her some really decent instant.

Though it did come with a price tag.

To compare how good this specialty instant was, I bought the Moccona - a stock-standard off-the-shelf instant coffee.

So, was the specialty instant five times better than the regular instant? Not quite.

Actually, I didn’t love either of them.

That’s not a dig at anyone – millions rely on instant coffee every day, and for good reason. It’s quick, familiar, and does the job.

But for me, the Moccona’s sweet aroma – transporting me back to my university and early working life where this was a staple – gave way to intense astringency, zipping along the side of my tongue like an unwelcome guest before leaving me with a musty earthy woodiness of the forest floor… but not in a good way.

Unfortunately, the Wolff Roaster specialty instant was not only five times more expensive but nowhere near five times better. Its initial aroma reminded me of a sheep’s paddock. The taste was plain and watery (including a gentle red-wine mouthfeel), with a lingering aftertaste of disappointment. I’d expected the premium version to somehow change the game.

As I took my final sip (of only four), I couldn’t help think of how we often fall into this trap: of expecting that more equals better. More money, more quality, more hype. Only to find that once we climb that mountain of more, we find the view a little…meh. Maybe this wasn’t about coffee anymore. Maybe this was about my heart.

I’ll admit that I’m not the most contented person in the world. I find the words of Paul quite challenging:

[11] Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned, in whatever situation I am, to be content. [12] I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. [13] I can do all things through him who strengthens me.

Philippians 4:11–13

Paul learned contentment not by changing or upgrading his circumstances, but by anchoring himself in Christ. The more he knew Jesus, the more he was strengthened. The contentment he experienced transcended any and every circumstance.

Oh, to know Jesus to this end!

It’s easy for many of us to believe the next thing – the next purchase, job, relationship, experience, even spiritually feeling – will finally scratch that itch and hit the spot. But that’s so often not how God works. Instead, he forms contentment in us over time, as we learn to trust Jesus not just in plenty, but also in poverty or pain.

When it comes to coffee, my wife is pretty content. As long as it’s drinkable and warm, she’s happy. I’m glad this Mother’s Day gift has been received well!

But the fancy specialty stuff didn’t blow my mind. It did open my eyes, though – sometimes the search for better is actually a nudge to remember who is best.