Blog from Summer of 2023
Last night’s meal did not go well. Me and the macaronis didn’t get along. They started as cute little spirals swimming in a pool of cheese sauce. They looked lonely, so I added some left over spaghetti noodles. I had to leave to drive the kids to VBS, so I left my pasta friends alone to play in the pan. (Yes, I did make sure the stove was off). By the time I returned, the mac and cheese was firm and pasty, so I added some milk and sour cream. The cute little spirals began to mutate into a thick sludge that one could use to make concrete. My husband is not overly fond of mac and cheese, but time was running out and there was no turning back. I dreaded sitting at the table and watching him chew my culinary disaster, so I decided to go for a walk during supper to avoid the shame of my failure.
Early in our marriage there was another notorious occasion when my husband feasted for days on another cooking mishap. This time it was spaghetti sauce. I am not sure why I decided to add salsa to the pot. It seemed reasonable at the time, salsa has tomatoes, onions and peppers, right? It must have been hot salsa, because I kept adding more stuff to drown out the spicy heat. I would add some more tomato puree and then taste it. . . still too spicy, need to add more. At this point my future self should have come to the rescue and tossed the pot into the trash, but I kept adding and adding till I had a huge pot of spicy spaghetti sauce. Both of us coming from good German stock where nothing gets wasted, were determine to finish the pot. For days, my sweet husband ate this stuff and each time I ate my shame.
In my mind there are two feasts. One is a scary pot-luck that lurks with past mistakes and failures. As I chew on these troubling events, the shame and guilt give me a serious case of indigestion. My heart burns as I contemplate my bad choices and foolish decisions.
But there is another feast. It is the flip side of this pot-luck. Let’s look at the mistake of the tomato sauce. By my husband faithful eating his meals without complaint, I realized how much he cares for me. His loyalty to me and understanding encouraged me to keep trying. Even after 26 years of eating meals together, he is still very gracious when my food is not so great.
God is like that. We come to him with our sludgy mess, covered in shame and he reminds us of his love and showers us with his grace. Then he serves us an amazing feast. A feast filled with hope where no one ever get indigestion.
Do you remember the song: “His Banner Over Me Is Love”? There is a verse that says:
“I’m feasting at his banqueting table. His banner over me is love”
As a kid, I did not have a clue what that meant, but eating with Jesus sounded good to me. I am in my 50’s now and still enjoy feasting at my Lord’s table.
So what are you chewing on today? Are you still ruminating over past failures? May I invite you to eat with my Jesus? Chewing on the Bread of Life and drinking Living Water is a much healthier menu choice.
Heavenly Father,
Some days my life feels like a lame casserole. Not much joy or flavor. I tend to eat lots of leftovers from my past. . . . .regretting bad choices, feeling shame and guilt. I would like a new menu option. You offer your children an amazing feast of your love and peace. I want to eat with you today and experience your joy. I’m choosing to trash my bad memories in exchange for your grace.
In Jesus name,
Amen
Verses of the day: Rev 3:20 and Psalm 23:5
Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in. I will eat with that person, and they will eat with me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
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