I have wonderful memories of visiting my grandparents' house in San Francisco. They had a big, beautiful Mediterranean-style house with 16-foot ceilings in the living room. After hors d'oevres and beverages in the living room, dinner was announced and we would line up to load our gold-rimmed Lenox plates with turkey or roast beef, casseroles, salads, mashed potatoes or sweet potatoes, marinated artichokes or cold asparagus with hollandaise sauce. We stuffed ourselves even though we'd already savored various kinds of chips and dips, crackers for sardines, kippers or herring in cream sauce or smoked salmon as appetizers. (I always wondered why these filling snacks were called appetizers.) Sometimes, when the occasion called for it, my grandmother would hire Ailee, the maid, and then we'd also have hot appetizers, fresh from the oven.
Anyway, we would all sit at my grandmother's big, ornate dining room table. The table was set with silver serving dishes, filled with dressings or preserves. We placed starched cloth dinner napkins on our laps. We sipped iced water from crystal glasses. Each place setting consisted of a fork for every course, a dinner knife, a butter knife and two spoons. We kids knew to keep our hands on our laps except when taking a bite of food. We also knew that our childish prattle was not an appropriate accompaniment to adult conversation, so we confined our talk to asking polite questions and then listening to incomprehensible adult answers that sounded like, "Wah, wah, wah."
As we kids grew older and more sophisticated, we entered the adult conversations, navigating our talk in and around the boring, "when I was your age. . . " or the dangerous, "So, how many "A"s did you get this semester?"
Sometime around the age of twelve, it occurred to me how undeserving I really was of such wonderful feasts.
If I'd been some other family's child, I wouldn't have been invited to my grandmother's table.
No, I was a guest at the table simply because I was family.
I didn't do business with my grandfather.
I didn't play bridge with my grandmother or team up with her to raise money for the P.E.O.
I was the fourth child born of my mother.
That, and that alone, qualified me to share in the feast.
Years later, I thought how that one fact qualifies me to share in the feast of the King of Kings.
I haven't done one thing to earn my place at His table.
Sure, I'd been a good and obedient (for the most part) child.
I was a decent student.
In school, I distinguished myself as a talented artist, a winner of spelling bees, the fastest runner, the best singer (so I was told), the most compassionate toward new students or nerd-y students.
I've been a good wife, a loving mother, a faithful servant at church, a hospitable home-owner.
But,
none of these things qualifies me to sit with the King at the Lamb's supper.
No.
It is only my position as a daughter of the King that gives me the right to sit with Peter and Paul and Isaac and Moses and Deborah and Rahab and Ruth and Mary.
By placing my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, I have been adopted into His royal family.
So I look forward to the day of the great gathering of all of the King's children to the table.
To sit and behold Him, who did all to make it possible for me to become His child.
What have I done to earn my spot there?
Nothing.
I'm just a member of the family.
Revelation 19:9 "Then the angel said to me, 'Write: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb!' And he added, 'these are the true words of God.'"
Anyway, we would all sit at my grandmother's big, ornate dining room table. The table was set with silver serving dishes, filled with dressings or preserves. We placed starched cloth dinner napkins on our laps. We sipped iced water from crystal glasses. Each place setting consisted of a fork for every course, a dinner knife, a butter knife and two spoons. We kids knew to keep our hands on our laps except when taking a bite of food. We also knew that our childish prattle was not an appropriate accompaniment to adult conversation, so we confined our talk to asking polite questions and then listening to incomprehensible adult answers that sounded like, "Wah, wah, wah."
As we kids grew older and more sophisticated, we entered the adult conversations, navigating our talk in and around the boring, "when I was your age. . . " or the dangerous, "So, how many "A"s did you get this semester?"
Sometime around the age of twelve, it occurred to me how undeserving I really was of such wonderful feasts.
If I'd been some other family's child, I wouldn't have been invited to my grandmother's table.
No, I was a guest at the table simply because I was family.
I didn't do business with my grandfather.
I didn't play bridge with my grandmother or team up with her to raise money for the P.E.O.
I was the fourth child born of my mother.
That, and that alone, qualified me to share in the feast.
Years later, I thought how that one fact qualifies me to share in the feast of the King of Kings.
I haven't done one thing to earn my place at His table.
Sure, I'd been a good and obedient (for the most part) child.
I was a decent student.
In school, I distinguished myself as a talented artist, a winner of spelling bees, the fastest runner, the best singer (so I was told), the most compassionate toward new students or nerd-y students.
I've been a good wife, a loving mother, a faithful servant at church, a hospitable home-owner.
But,
none of these things qualifies me to sit with the King at the Lamb's supper.
No.
It is only my position as a daughter of the King that gives me the right to sit with Peter and Paul and Isaac and Moses and Deborah and Rahab and Ruth and Mary.
By placing my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, I have been adopted into His royal family.
So I look forward to the day of the great gathering of all of the King's children to the table.
To sit and behold Him, who did all to make it possible for me to become His child.
What have I done to earn my spot there?
Nothing.
I'm just a member of the family.
Revelation 19:9 "Then the angel said to me, 'Write: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb!' And he added, 'these are the true words of God.'"
Hi Dena -
ReplyDeleteLove this! When the enemy comes around, telling us we're not worthy, all we have to say is, "I'm family."
Blessings,
Susan :)
Thanks Susan.
ReplyDelete"I'm so glad I'm a part of the family of God;
I've been washed in the fountain, cleansed by His blood.
Joint heirs with Jesus as we travel this sod, for I'm part of the family, the family of God."
(The Family of God by Gloria and William Gaither)
I can't imagine the richness of that way of life. How blessed you were. And I love the sweet analogy. It does me good.
ReplyDeleteHi Dena -
ReplyDeleteI've linked to this post today (6/3/11). :)
Blessings,
Susan
Thanks, Susan. Appreciate that.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Susan. Appreciate that.
ReplyDelete