When the Coffee Just Doesn’t Taste Right
By: Jimmie Aaron Kepler

This morning started like most others. I shambled into the kitchen, still half-asleep. My nightshirt wrinkled. Yes, I sleep in one of those old-fashioned nightshirt. My hair was also looking like I’d wrestled a porcupine in my sleep and lost.

I poured myself a cup of that good, strong, blonde-roast coffee and stepped out onto the porch. That porch has seen a lot over the years. It’s witnessed my quiet prayers, loud laughs, and more than a few tears. It’s my little sanctuary. My holy ground with a rocking chair.

The birds squabbled at the feeder as though it were Black Friday and they were battling over the last bag of seed. The younger feral cats, brimming with energy and ideas, scrambled across the pool deck in an endless game of tag.

And there I sat, coffee in hand, knees aching like they do when the weather’s about to change, just trying to wake up in peace. Joints and bones aching, I wondered if I could stand the pain.

Then, like a thundercloud rolling in out of nowhere, a wave of emotion hit me. A creeping weight that surrounds you before you are aware. It lacked specificity. Maybe my aches and pains are just life piling up. Perhaps I realized that Social Security isn’t keeping up with my bills. Or I missed my deceased wife to the point I ached and missed the wisdom of my dead parents. Perhaps I missed my only grandchild, grown and living with my daughter in another state. Perhaps something personal, like the ache of a body that lacks resilience or feels foreign. Or my worry about the shadow of cancer hanging over a loved one who, like me, is praying it doesn’t come back. And then there’s the angst of living in a country that seems more and more divided each time I turn on the news.

And right there, in the middle of it all, I did what I’ve learned to do: I cried out.

Out loud.

Not with a fancy, polished prayer. Just these words, raw and honest:

“O God, be not far from me; O my God, make haste to help me.”—Psalm 71:12

That verse has been following me around like a stray dog looking for a home. And maybe that’s what my soul needed this morning. It needed a reminder that I don’t have to carry it all alone.

You see, I’ve lived long enough to know that strength doesn’t come from gritting your teeth and muscling through. It comes from knowing where your help lies. And friend, it evades stock market trends and long to-do lists. It’s in God who listens when we whisper or shout those desperate prayers.

Sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do is just admit we need help. No shame in it. No weakness in saying, “Lord, I can’t do this without You.” In fact, that might just be the bravest thing we do all day.

After that prayer, I sat there a while longer. The coffee still tasted a little off, my body continued aching, but my spirit? It was lighter. Not fixed, not perfect but lifted. Like God pulled up a chair beside me and said, “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

So if today feels heavy, friend, don’t be scared to cry out to God. Whether you’re on a back porch like me or stuck in traffic, whether your heart is breaking or your knees just ache. He hears you.

He always has.

And He’s never far.

Grace and Peace,
Jimmie

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