The Feast is Ready

We arrived at Ethan’s house right at lunch time on our second “kidnapping” this summer.

He hopped and danced his way around the living room and announced that we were having a “feast” for lunch. “It’s my favorite meal!”

When the twins were delivered via C-Section a few weeks earlier, at 28 weeks, folks from Becki’s church had rallied round them and created a sign-up list that would cover at least one meal a day for the next two months. There are some good cooks in Becki’s church (but then I haven’t met a church yet that didn’t have at least a few good cooks) and the steady stream of meals arrived - one gourmet meal after another.

We walked into the kitchen and sure enough, there was the “feast” being laid out on a buffet table. Many of the meals arriving at Ethan’s house were more than 3 people could consume at one sitting and so Becki had assembled a wondrous array of salads, breads, condiments and other delicious things to eat.

When all was ready we were invited to help ourselves to whatever we wanted to try and soon we were all sitting around the table with heaped plates, getting caught up on our conversation. Several times Ethan urged us to try whatever he was eating at the moment that he was particularly enjoying. “This is my favorite meal!” he announced once again.

At the end of the meal there were far fewer containers to stuff into an already full refrigerator, but each of us felt satisfied with our “feasting”.

I made a mental note and at the end of our “kidnapping” set out a feast of our own.

“This is my favorite meal!” Ethan announced as he helped himself to leftovers that he had enjoyed the first time around, or leftovers that I had doctored for this “feast”. At the end of the meal, as at Becki’s, I had far fewer containers to return to the refrigerator.

We did another “feast” when we “kidnapped” Ethan again three weeks later. He could hardly wait to talk to Mom and Dad that night to tell them all about the “feast” we had had this time. His favorite was some left-over steak that I sliced very thin and heated up in BBQ sauce and left-over grilled onions. But he helped himself to a zucchini pancake, veggie-and-dip, stir-fried squash and a piece of cornbread. We are all fortunate that most of the time Ethan has a wide range of enjoyment.

While we ate I told him about my own favorite meal when I was growing up. We called it a “banquet” but it was the same idea. Once or twice a month, on a Sunday night, my mother would set out all the left-overs from the week. We were allowed to choose what we wanted to eat and inevitably our father would finish-up whatever we didn’t eat. If there wasn’t enough food to satisfy our dad, at the end of the meal he would break out his hoarded chunk of Limburger Cheese and carefully slice off a few thin slices to eat on bread or crackers. We kids would avoid that end of the table because we hated the smell of that cheese.

Ethan laughed at his picture of my family table and dove into the next item he wanted to eat. He was not at all disappointed at the end of the meal when I brought out TWO kinds of homemade cookies. And his joy was complete when I allowed him to take one of each.

Bill and I have enjoyed our own kind of “spiritual feast” as we have traveled through life. Oh, certainly the Word of God is a feast all by itself. But I am talking about the “feast” we have encountered as we have traveled from place to place, church to church, the “feast” that other people present.

It took me awhile to realize what a “feast” was available to us. I did not always fully appreciate the delectable “feast” that presented itself as I encountered folks in many different parts of the Church whose backgrounds were very different than mine. They did not always express their faith in the same “language” as I did, but I have come to understand that there are folks with a deep faith-walk, all over the place, in every part of the Church that I have had the privilege to explore.

I have, finally, learned to “taste” and savor other perspectives of the same God whom I love and want ever to know better. He has revealed Himself to me though the “dishes” that others have prepared with exotic spices and flavors of their own perspective that I did not even know existed.

And because I have learned to “taste” so many other “dishes” I have grown in ways I did not even know were possible. The “feast” at God’s table is so much greater than I ever dreamed growing up.

I believe that He invites each of us to the table to “feast” with one another. Sadly, too often, our “culinary” background keeps us from at least tasting what is available. But the Feast is ready and we are each invited to the table.