Will You Be ‘Good to the Last Drop’?

Remember the old Maxwell House coffee commercial and its motto, “Good to the last drop”? Even if you don’t – I think it’s been years since they used that ad slogan – if you look at the labels of Maxwell House coffees, you’ll still see the image of a tilted coffee cup releasing its last drop.

Coffee, and life, should be
"good to the last drop."

I mention this not to promote a particular caffeine producer – don’t mean to slight the Folgers, Starbucks, Dunkin’ Donuts, or McDonald’s folks – but the last drop concept seems a fitting metaphor for a life that’s been well-lived.

Without intending to seem morbid, I remember several people over my lifetime who literally dropped dead while engaged in some type of activity. One was cutting grass, another had laid down for a quick nap, and yet another was in the middle of his daily jog. There have been others, but a common denominator of the three individuals I cite is they were still actively involved in serving their Lord when their days on earth abruptly came to an end.

Nearing the close of another decade myself, this raises a question I hope to answer in the affirmative: “Will I finish well?” I used to think such a consideration was reserved only for men and women well into their senior years. But I’ve come to realize the secret to a life that’s “good to the last drop” is striving to make the best of every day we have, whether we’re 18, 28, 48 or 88.

Sadly, I’ve also known people who failed to finish well. Whose “last drop” wasn’t all that good. They got off to a good start – like the field at the start of a NASCAR race, all bright and shiny, no dents. Full of energy. Then somewhere along the line they spun out, had a flat tire and banged against the wall, or drove to the pits and never came back out.

Ah, but I mix my metaphors. Did you ever find yourself enjoying a nice cup of coffee…until the end, when the last sip filled your mouth with a bunch of grounds? Yuck! One of our regular coffee places – it shall remain nameless – has a nasty habit of including little coffee crunchies in its hazelnut blend. Some things I like crunchy, but not my coffee. So, I have great appreciation for brews that are good to the last drop – as well as lives.

Why is it that some start their lives – and their walk of faith – strong, continue with consistency and finish well, while others don’t? The problem, it seems, isn’t so much with the ending as it is with the beginning. J.D. Greear recently made this observation: “Faith that fizzles before the finish was flawed from the first.” His alliteration is clever, but the meaning is profound.

Perhaps that is why the apostle Paul encouraged believers in the church at Colossae, “having been firmly rooted and now being built up in Him and established in your faith, just as you were instructed, and overflowing with gratitude” (Colossians 2:7). Just as a plant must be firmly rooted to grow properly, faith also must be deeply rooted into Jesus Christ as the foundation.

Writing to his protégé, Timothy, Paul also exhorted, “Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15). Rather than being guided by feelings, whims, or even the opinions of others, Paul taught Timothy to anchor himself in the timeless, changeless truths of the Scriptures.

Heeding his own advice, the apostle could say near the end of his life, “…Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:13-14). This kind of resolve can’t be established by someone “prepping for the finals.” It’s a lifelong pursuit. If not already underway, it must start now.

How are you progressing in the quest to ensure your life is “good to the last drop”?

The Conundrum of Progress

Many of the stately live oaks of Southern cities like Savannah, Ga.
and Charleston, S.C. took centuries to grow.

My junior year in high school, I took a personal typing class. Planning to attend college, it seemed worthwhile to learn how to type reasonably well for writing essays, term papers and other assignments. I had no idea how it would help prepare me for a career in journalism.

I remember starting with the “home row” – ASDFG (left hand) and HJKL (right hand) – and which fingers to use on which keys, and then trying to learn to type without staring at the keys. At first the task seemed impossible. “The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog,” I was convinced, would forever exceed my typing capabilities.

Over weeks and months, however, my typing skills slowly improved, I started feeling quite at home with the home row, and to my surprise, could succeed in typing without checking which keys my fingers were striking. My speed increased, too, from 10-15 words per minute to upwards of 60 (with gusts into the 70s), along with my accuracy. Practice wasn’t perfect, but I was getting closer. Only later did I realize I was learning to flex “muscle memory.”

In my first news writing class as a journalism major in college, we were instructed – and learned – to think and write with fingers fixed on the keyboard, composing fast-breaking news stories without pen or pencil to slow the process. Again, who knew that was even possible? But we all learned to do it.

Years later, secretaries and administrative assistants where I worked would occasionally observe that I typed faster than they did. I share this not to boast of my typing acumen, but to affirm how progress has a way of sneaking up on us, whether learning to type, play a musical instrument, make sales presentations, or mature in our faith.

Day to day advances may seem imperceptible, but looking back over time, we become surprised by the progress we’ve made. It’s a bit of a conundrum, progressing millimeters at a time when we want to advance in quantum leaps.

Twisting, curving live oak branches
embody the slow pace of progress.

Recently my wife and I toured Savannah, Ga. and gazed with wonder at the huge, stately live oaks whose curving branches extend in every direction, across streets, parks and pathways. Such growth, however, has been exceedingly slow in coming. Many of those elegant trees are hundreds of years old; centuries later we can appreciate how stately they grew, but I’m sure citizens who saw them in the 1700s and 1800s weren’t so impressed.

I remember the first time someone commented about my spiritual growth. This was a friend I saw once or twice a year, so he could perceive progress I could not, immersed as I was in the mundane routines of life. How encouraging that was, since I felt like I was merely spinning wheels spiritually.

This apparently is as God intends for it to be. He often uses slow, sometimes exasperating progress that the Living Bible paraphrase of Proverbs 21:5 describes as “steady plodding,” as opposed to “hasty speculation,” whether applied to material or spiritual riches.

Ephesians 6:4 instructs fathers, “do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.” As I read this, it seems God is telling us not to expect too much too quickly from our children, whether the offspring happen to be biological or spiritual. As the apostle wrote in 3 John 4, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.”

Colossians 2:7 speaks of being “firmly rooted and now being built up in Him and established in your faith, just as you were instructed, and overflowing with gratitude.” This doesn’t happen overnight, or even over weeks or months. Spiritual growth is never-ending, and the quest for spiritual maturity requires a lifetime.

We see this over and over in the Scriptures, whether it’s Eli the priest mentoring future prophet Samuel, Samuel coming alongside future king David, Jesus working 24/7 with His disciples, Barnabas taking Saul (who became Paul) under his wing, or Paul instructing Timothy. In each case, their goal was progress, understanding progress can be a tedious, sometimes one-step-forward, two-steps-back process.

Living in an immediate gratification-oriented, gotta-have-it-now society, the painstaking pace of progress can be perplexing. But it’s necessary. Because spiritual giants aren’t grown in a day.