A few days ago, I sat outside in the blistering North Carolina heat at one of my favorite local coffee shops while waiting to meet up with a friend. Maybe it was the effects of the sun or the nostalgia that sneaked in after sitting in silence for too long.
Either way, before I knew it, I began to reminisce on all the coffee shops that have impacted me in the past decade. Before it was Raleigh’s Idle Hour, it was Auburn’s Coffee Cat, Greensboro’s Tate Street Coffee, West Yellowstone’s Mountain Mama’s, and Troy’s Village. As I sat there, I realized these weren’t just places to grab a treat and caffeine; they were the sanctuaries of my adulthood.
Admittedly, coffee was an acquired taste. At 13, I was drinking cups full of whole milk with teaspoons of espresso and packets of sugar before I could even think about stomaching black coffee.
Before I knew what good beans tasted like and before I truly needed the caffeine, I was hoping that proudly showing off my cups of Joe would make me look cooler and more mature, adding stylish depth to my aimed aesthetic. It’s unclear whether that ever worked, because I’m now more prone to forgetting ceramic mugs on the roof of my car and spilling espresso on my white pants.
When I was in high school, Coffee Cat was where my friends and I would celebrate achievements, big and small. It was where I tried my first latte (and developed my flavor standards) and dared to pour my heart out through writing for the first time, feeling safe.
When I was a camp counselor, Tate Street was where I escaped from the day’s business and found solace and peace amidst strangers. It was where I wrote my blog post, “A Coffee Shop Miracle,” inspired by the possibilities of a range of stories that led random people to the exact moment, to the same place.
When I worked in Montana, Mountain Mama’s was where I learned how to make and serve the drinks I loved to new friends I grew to love. It was where I got to share my appreciation for and knowledge of Yellowstone with visitors. It was also where I explored the ethics behind my morals and values amongst a diverse staff.
And, in my college town, Village was where I learned how to run a storefront and give back to my community in the ways I was gifted. Village saw me before the sun came up or went down, and the aromas of the shop followed me to class after my shifts and seeped into the seats of my car.
In many ways, coffee shops were just as influential on my adult life as churches were. When churches couldn’t celebrate with me, the people in coffee shops did.
When churches and the people in them felt dangerous, were scarily uniform, looked down upon atypical spiritual experiences, and closed their doors—saving their love for Sundays—coffee shops welcomed me home.
The influence of coffee shops on Western Christianity is not a new observation. Young adults who identify as Christian are experiencing a widespread shift in theological beliefs and cultural ideals. And, I think it’s safe to say many are finding consolation and Jesus outside physical churches and in third places, like coffee shops, instead.
Front doors are locked so the side doors to the faith are being opened and created alternatively. Rather than claiming pews as unassigned assigned seats, people are pulling up chairs and ordering caffeine.
Churches aren’t being replaced, they’re being reimagined. Reimagination and reconstruction are sparking revivals. Maybe it’s heretical to ask, but are coffee shops the new churches?
Christianity’s roots began to deepen in houses. Could they also strengthen and thrive in coffee shops? Our younger generations are searching for authentic communities, and many churches aren’t providing what they need.
Lasting love and positive change don’t happen on an individual basis. They occur in a community, and for many, it’s happening through coffee.
If we long to be the church everywhere, then we must be open to the idea that churches can form anywhere. God is not confined to the boundaries of a sanctuary.
My faith has been nurtured through what I’ve heard while standing behind a counter as a barista and has been edified through what I’ve shared in tears while sitting across a table from a friend with a cappuccino in hand. Because Jesus came to create disciples, not institutions, many of us are seeking and finding God in unexpected places and through unassuming people.
Coffee is an acquired taste; change is, too. We’ll drop our coffee cups and spill our drinks as we fumble to share and listen to the gospel in new places. I hope our movements of God’s love will be healthier because of it.
Will Jesus turn our water into coffee?
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Anna Parish, originally from Auburn, Alabama, earned a B.S. in Applied Health Sciences from Troy University and is currently in her second year of the M.Div. program at Campbell University Divinity School. She serves as an intern at Hayes Barton Baptist Church in Raleigh, North Carolina, where she enjoys walking alongside people of all ages as they explore their callings. Anna is passionate about cultivating authentic communities through holistic spiritual development. She is pursuing a vocation in hospital chaplaincy and authorship and is interested in religious social science research and preaching.
