The grandeur of a wide and sweeping palace on a summer night illumined by the beauty of a brilliant starry host, each tucked in with a blanket of navy wrapped beautifully around them. Warm, well-lit, and filled with the quiet familiarity of tender intimacy. Royal carpets, opulent tapestries, generous luxuries abound within the welcoming walls of this exquisite mansion. This is a place where, despite it’s matchless wealth and vast splendor, each guest is known in the deepest, most personal way, loved beyond comprehension, and specifically invited in to drink in the joy of loving grace. It’s a place of knowing, of feeling warmed from the inside out, a place of being filled beyond description.
Every soul aches to belong and to be welcomed within the manor’s walls. They hunger to be fed and filled by the offerings of the magnificent Host.
Contrarily, though all are presented with admission,
few accept the ultimate sacrificial gift of love.
Yet, for those who come…
For those who have been robed in the glistening attire of a new bride, cloaked with the snowy shimmer of righteousness paid for by the precious blood of the spotless Lamb of God…
For them, the Bridegroom calls by name and ushers in to partake of The Supper, the priceless commodity of communion.
A holy intimacy received by drinking of the cup and breaking of the bread by which the Church joins in communion with each other as family, as intimate friends, and with the Savior as their long-awaited Bridegroom.
We are ushered in by His tender voice.
Invited in to taste and see His goodness and love.
He awaits to renew our very hearts and to warm us by the intimate presence of His Holy Spirit.
He calls out for us to come inside.
For how He yearns to bind up the broken hearted,
re-build crumbling walls, and
restore the Unity within His Body,
the very Bride of Christ.
Yet, we come with angry hearts. We fume about nonsensical notions that miss the act of sacrifice demonstrated by the Supper laid out before us like the body of our Lord.
We are bitter at our neighbor.
We harbor injustices against our brother.
We stoop to hate our sister.
And for what? We didn’t like the music at church. Her attire wasn’t appropriate. He wasn’t generous. They ignored me. She hurt my feelings.
Or perhaps we simply don’t care. We share the meal with callous ritual, intent on checking our Sunday morning box of “good deeds”.
Hence the saints arrive at The Table, our admission paid for by the precious blood of the Lamb of God, and we are laden with disharmony against those in the Body and with weary and worn repetition. How grievous!
How we have cheapened Grace!
Has not Christ called us to more?
Has He not begged for us to see the purpose behind His life and death?
Did He not demonstrate His own love for us in that,
while we were yet sinners, He died for us?
How then shall we approach His bounty?
With humble awe and wonder? Or with trite litany?
How shall we treat the believer next to us?
As co-heirs with Christ Himself? Or as someone who deserves grace less than we do?
May the sacrifice displayed by the generosity of the
extravagant blood and body remind us of love and renew our desire to
join with each other in fellowship and unity for the purpose of reaching others for Jesus.
We were not given salvation that we might keep the gift to ourselves, but rather to share the life with all.
Are you ushering others in to His grace or cheapening the gift?