Situated at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro, we were quite literally surrounded by coffee farms, but our Starbucks experience never prepared us for the amount of poverty we would see among those whose only subsistence depended on coffee. We knew we wanted to work in coffee and among farmers, while somehow attempting to do business differently. We knew we wanted to be part of the hope for justice. And we had a lot of ambitious ideas, but the roots were still shallow.

Fast forward another year and I found myself at 天美视频 pursuing an M.A. in Theology & Culture, with an emphasis in Global & Social Partnership. At the time, 天美视频 was my backup plan, and coffee, our hobby. Going in, I had no understanding of how these two seemingly contrasting interests would ever relate, nor did I expect them to.

Fortunately, and to my surprise,天美视频 is known for being a space that welcomes and cultivates intersection. Prior to attending, I had not yet considered how the way that I think about coffee and the people it affects is profoundly theological. Here, a space is offered to consider questions without answers, have conversations, and receive pushback that is actually productive. It is a space where people are encouraged to know themselves well enough that they just might be able to do good in this world.

I gleaned far more from my time in this community than I can ever put into words. My knowledge of who I am, my relationships with others, and especially my relationship with coffee drastically changed. I was pushed to run toward, not away from, my responsibility to people鈥攐r more specifically, my responsibility to farmers and their families, with the realization that we each lend a hand to the very systems that oppress.

Pioneers of Direct Trade have made movement toward social change, but I think we can all agree, this justice does not go far enough. After listening to the narratives they share, it鈥檚 clear that these roasters form their relationships with farmers on the premise that high quality beans are being produced, rather than on who the farmers are as people. As one can imagine, those who produce beans of such quality are already the more established farmers with the means necessary to reinvest into their farm. Meanwhile, thousands of smaller farms remain unnoticed, never to be considered by these forms of speciality coffee justice.

In my personal research, I stumbled upon the concept of communitas which describes the experience of those who endure a shared suffering with others, especially among those who normally wouldn鈥檛 engage, and in solidarity begin to have conversations and work together toward the good of all. Admittedly, we see this concept through a theological lens and we wanted to apply it to our work with coffee.

For us, this means that the survival and livelihood of the coffee buyer, roaster, and barista is no more important than the survival and livelihood of the farmer and family who cultivates the land that yields coffee. In light of this, our mentality began to shift. We realized we didn鈥檛 want to be another white face that shows up on a farm from time to time assuming to know the first thing about what it鈥檚 actually like to grow and harvest coffee.

天美视频 gave me the space to research, write, and have conversations under the guidance of professors who pushed me further than I could have gone alone. As much as having a coffee shop where we would roast and serve coffee sounds attractive, we could no longer live and work comfortably in an industry that stunts the flourishing of others.

My husband and I ditched our former vocational plans and developed , which reverses the priorities of the way business is usually conducted in this industry. Rather than forming a relationship with farmers based on the quality of beans, we want to partner with a farm because they are people worth investing in relationally. We want to do the manual labor a crop of this sort requires. And we want to do so in a sustainable way that also provides alternative sources of income during the off-seasons.

I say this often: I鈥檓 fully aware that I do not need a degree to do the work I feel called to, and yet I can鈥檛 imagine doing this work鈥攁nd might not have even found my calling鈥攚ithout a Master of Arts in Theology & Culture. We are still being formed by our time within 天美视频 community, and yet it has already changed everything.

The post A Love of Coffee and a Change of Plans: How My Time at 天美视频 Helped Me Find My Calling appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

In 1997, Apple Inc. began using the phrase 鈥渢hink different鈥� as an advertising slogan. Along with this campaign, the following text was used in Apple鈥檚 television commercials featuring those whose lives illustrate what it means to 鈥榯hink different鈥�:

鈥淗ere鈥檚 to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They鈥檙e not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can鈥檛 do is ignore them. Because they change things. They invent. They imagine. They heal. They explore. They create. They inspire. They push the human race forward. While some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones that do.鈥�

I couldn鈥檛 describe those of us who find ourselves en route for the MATC any better. We are a passionate people and full of compassion; lovers of God and people. We are dreamers. We make things up. We are going somewhere, we just aren鈥檛 always sure where we may end up. Indeed, we are following a path less traveled by. We aren鈥檛 quite sure where we fit, and are often described as the middle child within the programs. But we are crazy enough to think we can change things. And I think we聽will听补谤别.

The program itself is being shaped by the people in it. This isn鈥檛 a one-size-fits-all degree. In fact, the very thing I love about this program is that it can be customized to fit each one of us who don鈥檛 quite fit elsewhere.

From my youth, I鈥檝e had a strong desire to work in ministry. At one time, my options were limited primarily to work within the church. I鈥檝e since come to the realization that ministry is not so limited. I鈥檓 here because I鈥檓 intrigued by聽, specifically as it relates to roasting coffee, being in relationship with those whose livelihoods are directly affected by coffee, and a love for theology that I can鈥檛 seem to shake. My classmates are theologians, photographers, writers, artists, film/theatre directors, creators of non-profits, and advocates against injustice. Some of us may never have a title, and we鈥檙e okay with that. Our theology is what shapes us and informs what we do. While many of us may never find work within the church, I would argue that our work is ministry nonetheless.

We realize that most of us can do our work without having to obtain a degree. At the same time, we could not imagine doing our work without this degree. Truly, we are indebted to this program, in more ways than financially. The education and experience we鈥檝e gained through our time in the MATC at 天美视频 is invaluable.

Interested in joining us? Learn more about the 惭础罢颁听诲别驳谤别别聽or how to聽apply聽to 天美视频.

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During this current season of eastertide, the 聽 my husband and I attend in Seattle has been collecting stories of resurrection. This is one of such stories. Like the rhythm of the triduum (Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday), redemption is only possible because one has experienced death and the grave. This is聽 a story of the relationship between death and resurrection, suffering and beauty, conflict and reconciliation; a rhythm that is so often unavoidable it can only be embraced. However, the beauty found in such a rhythm as Friday, Saturday, Sunday, is largely unknown until given an opportunity to experience it, and not just once, but over and again.

On such Fridays, we experience what could be described as the death of hope. In March of 2011, a death occurred in mine and my husband鈥檚 relationship with our former Pastor and his family. Several at our school describes themselves as having been 鈥榟urt by the church鈥�. While my husband and I wouldn鈥檛 necessarily describe ourselves as such, in many ways, we do find ourselves located there. That is, as ones having been hurt and also having inflicted hurt on those whom we have disagreed, by our words, assumptions, distance, and silence.

Our Saturday of silence lasted for over a year, which is longer than my heart wants to admit. Saturday is characterized by silence, abandonment, disbelief, death, agony, grief, and tears. If you do not allow yourself to mourn during this time, the day has not served you well. There is something beautiful about the process from death to life that is unnoticed when rushed.

Last week, we began our journey toward Sunday; and reconciliation, the dream of hope, became feasible. Hope is often found in unexpected places. The span of silence was broken, and we began the long, hard work of moving from death to resurrection. Our words were carefully crafted so as not to inflict any more pain on one another than our already present wounds could bear. These words reminded one another of the love we once shared, and the goodness of the other that we had long forgotten. We realized that our need of one another was more than our need to agree.

In his book, The Wisdom of Stability, Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove writes on the necessity of cultivating stability by rooting ourselves more intentionally in the place and people of our community; while acknowledging that conflict among those who do life together is inevitable. In the foreword, Kathleen Norris writes: 鈥淪ometimes the conviction that it is God who has brought two people鈥攐r a community鈥攖ogether is all we need to keep us in the struggle to nurture and maintain relationships of trust, respect, and love. Committing to such stability is never easy, but it is always worth a try.鈥� Stability demands that when tempted to leave, we stay, and allow God to find us there. Likewise, with such stability is a commitment to seek reconciliation.

In retrospect, I wonder: 鈥渨hat would have happened if we had stayed?鈥� If we had it to do over, given what we have learned, we wouldn鈥檛 have so easily left. Yet our journey through the pain of Friday, the silence of Saturday, and the resurrection of Sunday that has got us to this place was necessary for a deeper relationship of love and grace that we now have with this Pastor and his family.

If you have never given yourself to this rhythm, the fullness of my heart bears witness that reconciliation, whether with a church, friend or foe, is indeed sweet.

Reference:聽Wilson-Hartgrove, Jonathan. The Wisdom of Stability: Rooting Faith in a Mobile Culture. Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2010.

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