The Gospel According to My Espresso Machine

I’m a bit of a café culture fan. There’s just something satisfying about sitting in a coffee shop with a cup of something warm — doing a bit of work, brainstorming ideas, or simply escaping the chaos of home life for a few moments of peace. Sometimes Esther joins me (though she’s more of a tea loyalist), and we pretend we’re in Rome instead of Rugby.

But one thing has always amazed me about the café scene: the time it takes to make a single cup of coffee. I grew up in the era of instant — pop in a spoonful, pour on the kettle, done in 30 seconds. Espresso machines? Frothy milk? Latte art? They were the stuff of European holidays and fancy London cafes.

So yes, I used to get a bit twitchy watching baristas grind, tamp, steam, and swirl like they were auditioning for Strictly Come Brewing. That is, until last week… when I got my own espresso machine.

Like any confident novice, I watched a few YouTube videos and thought, “How hard can it be?” Spoiler: it’s harder than it looks. And much messier when you’re the one wielding the milk wand. It turns out making good coffee is a craft. A joyfully frustrating, occasionally triumphant, definitely caffeinated craft.

I’m still in week one. Haven’t nailed the strength. Haven’t cracked the foam art — although I did once produce a goat-shaped blob. It looked mildly tipsy. Not quite what I was going for, but I’m calling it progress.

But here’s the thing: as with so much in life, you only really get it by doing it. Watching someone else isn’t enough. You have to live it — try, fail, tweak, and gradually improve. And when you start to get the hang of it, even a little, it brings joy. You get to enjoy café-quality coffee in the garden, in your pyjamas, with no queue and no awkward background jazz.

Even better? You get to share it. Esther had a go on the machine the other day, and between us, I think she might be better at it than me. She still prefers weak tea (not quite espresso-grade yet!), but we’re getting there. Slowly. Together.

A Psalm for the Baristas

Now, you might be wondering what on earth this has to do with anything remotely spiritual. Fair question.

But this whole espresso adventure reminded me of a psalm I was reflecting on recently — Psalm 67. It’s one of those slightly rogue psalms that doesn’t fit neatly into the scholars’ categories. It’s not quite a lament, not just a thanksgiving, not even fully a praise song. It’s what some people call a “Missional Psalm” — because it has the whole world in view.

At the centre of the psalm is verse 4:

May the nations be glad and sing for joy, for you rule the peoples with equity and guide the nations of the earth.

That’s the heartbeat of the whole thing — a longing for everyone, not just Israel, to know God, be glad in him, and live under his good, just, wise rule. But what really struck me is how the psalm says we get there.

Step One: Be Blessed

It starts with blessing — verse 1:

May God be gracious to us and bless usand make his face shine on us—

That echoes the ancient priestly blessing in Numbers, the one I sometimes say over people at communion. And it’s no accident that the psalm begins here. The first step in God’s global plan isn’t hustle. It’s not pressure. It’s not guilt-driven mission.

It’s joy.

It’s delighting in being God’s people. Enjoying him. Resting in his grace. Receiving his love not as a reward, but as a beginning.

So often we treat faith like a to-do list. Another thing to manage. But this psalm reminds us: the starting point of everything is blessing. God’s kindness. His presence. His smile.

Step Two: Others Notice

Then we hit verse 2:

so that your ways may be known on earth, your salvation among all nations.

Notice the rhythm: we’re blessed so that others notice.

Not because we start shouting or strategising. Not because we launch a thousand initiatives. But because when people see a life marked by peace, joy, kindness, grace — they wonder. Like Esther following the smell of freshly ground coffee through the house, they’re drawn in.

We don’t need to sell something we haven’t enjoyed ourselves. The aroma of blessing does the work.

Step Three: Praise Overflows

And finally, verse 3:

May the peoples praise you, God; may all the peoples praise you.

This is the fruit — not just admiration, not just curiosity, but praise. Worship. People giving glory to God because they’ve encountered him through us. Not through pressure or argument, but through lives well-lived. Cups well-poured.

When someone asks, “Why do you live like that?” — we get to tell them the truth. “Because I’ve been blessed. Because I know the God who is good. And I want to live out of that goodness.”

Praise isn’t always a grand gesture. Sometimes it’s a song in church. Sometimes it’s grace at the dinner table. Sometimes it’s a quiet act of generosity that points beyond us.

But it all starts with the blessing.

Be a Spiritual Barista

In a way, Psalm 67 is a call to become spiritual baristas. Not in the latte-art sense (though props if you’ve nailed that), but in this deeper way: to really enjoy the rich, full-bodied goodness of God. To live as those who’ve tasted and seen that the Lord is good. To embrace the blessing — and let its aroma drift into the world.

You don’t have to have it all together. You don’t need perfect technique. You might be in the experimental stage — pulling messy shots and ending up with the occasional goat blob. That’s okay.

Start with the blessing. Enjoy it. Share it. And let the world be drawn in.

So go ahead — drink deeply.

And may your life smell like the grace of God and a really good cup of coffee.