A Taste of Home

Every so often, during family dinners of my childhood, my dad would wad up his used tea bag and throw it at one of my siblings or me. We were usually laughing and goofing off and, when Dad decided we’d reached our full measure of silliness, he’d assert his authority by flinging a soggy teabag toward one of us. Looking back, I think the silliness encoded into our genetics may have come from my dad’s side of the family.

So many things happen around a dinner table, more than mere consumption for the sake of meeting biological needs. Parents teach and correct behaviors. Laughter and conversation flow. People tell and re-tell stories, sometimes accompanied by agonizing groans or an embarrassed eye roll. Sometimes angry words erupt or a chair sits vacant.

The Passover was a family meal instituted by God on the night He delivered His people from slavery in Egypt. He required them to celebrate this meal every year by eating particular foods, celebrating certain traditions, and telling and re-telling the story of their deliverance. While preaching about the Passover, my pastor pointed out that when God wanted His people to memorialize their deliverance He didn’t lecture them or preach them a sermon.

He invited them to a meal.

He invited them to a meal where someone might have placed his elbows on the table; where someone might have overcooked the lamb or knocked over a glass of wine. He invited them to a table to laugh and tell stories and enjoy each another’s company.  Perhaps Jewish fathers became so exasperated with their children that they flung unleavened bread in their general direction. Flawed people who sinned against God and one another were called to gather around a meal to be reminded of their desperate need for deliverance.

Jesus celebrated the Passover with his disciples, telling them that He had eagerly longed to eat with them on the night He was betrayed. He told them He wouldn’t celebrate with them again until the Passover was fulfilled in the kingdom of God. In heaven, Christ waits to eat with them again. He waits for all His disciples to join Him; eagerly longing to sit at the table, laughing and enjoying the company of those He loves.

My son and many of his friends have been home from college for the past few weeks, celebrating Christmas vacation. Many of them compared notes about the food served in dining halls on their campuses. All seemed to be grateful for the opportunity to enjoy family meals, familiar tastes of home-cooking prepared with love.

So many things are happening when God’s people gather around the Lord’s Table, something He told His people to do until He returns. We remember our stories. We sit next to flawed people who sin against God and one another. We are reminded of the great cost of our deliverance. We eat familiar food prepared in love.

And the Lord’s Supper is a meal which tastes like home.

Many gathered around tables during the holidays, preparing and eating traditional foods. Every good thing which happened at those tables points to a better meal, one where no one burns the turkey, no one speaks in anger, and no chairs sit empty. There Christ waits; eagerly longing to share a meal with those He loves.

My dad will be at that meal. I wonder if there will be teabags in heaven.

Linking with Michelle @ Graceful:

And with Laura @ The Wellspring: