Hesed at Our Tables

Throughout the history of Jewish culture, the table where the families came together for meals were considered “holy”, so much so that some ancient teachings considered the table an altar to God. In the days of David, and even still today, it is common practice that at the table during the Friday night meal before Sabbath, Words of Torah are recited and Songs of Praise are sung.

In the Old Testament, we are invited into a story where we can see how King David’s table was used to show hesed to Miphibosheth, who by custom should have been killed instead of shown the grace and compassion of God by enjoying a meal at the King’s table.

Each time we celebrate the Lord’s Supper, we join in experiencing for ourselves one of the greatest examples of hesed the world has ever known, when we joined Jesus at the communion table to share in that meal.

But I also want to share with you a way that you and I can become ones who extend hesed – the grace and compassion of God – to those around us.

Back on the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, we had no big family cookout plans or anything, so we called up our friends Mark and Steph Hardman and their boys, who are used to our last second, spur of the moment invitations. Before long, Angela Roach and her kids were throwing in with us, and we gathered at our house for a cookout. It was nothing super fancy – in fact, we laughed about just throwing some food together, and God would make sure it was enough.

But on a typical Sunday evening, something divine unfolded. There was nothing “spiritual” planned, but in the unforced rhythm of that moment, we all became relaxed. We laughed a lot. We breathed a little slower. We had some great old tunes singing to us in the background. We watched our kids play. We ate. And we ate some more. AND IT WAS GOOD. IT WAS ALL GOOD.

Now, I’d been reading through Deuteronomy this spring. On May 31, my reading for the day was Deuteronomy 14, and I came to this passage:

22-26 Make an offering of ten percent, a tithe, of all the produce which grows in your fields year after year. Bring this into the Presence of God, your God, at the place he designates for worship and there eat the tithe from your grain, wine, and oil and the firstborn from your herds and flocks. In this way you will learn to live in deep reverence before God, your God, as long as you live . . . You and your family can then feast in the Presence of God, your God, and have a good time.

I was stunned! Learning to live in deep reverence before God should be the goal of each of us, and sounds an awful lot like worship to me. But in the simple sharing of a meal, we all experienced hesed. I can tell you, this single meal has changed me, and I don’t think I’m alone.

Mark Hardman sent me an email the week after our Sunday night gathering, in which he says: “First... what a wonderful day Sunday was. Good friends, kids having fun, GREAT food, lots of laughter... surely God was smiling and laughing along with us... The passage from Deuteronomy was right on target. God never ceases to amaze me when we let Him show up and then the party ensues. (He is always there beside us... just sometimes we fail to realize that) As always thank you for the hospitality.”

Each of you can invite folks to your table and share a meal. In doing so, you’re sharing your life, you’re sharing hesed, and in all of that, you’re sharing Jesus. As we all hopefully set out in the days, weeks and months ahead to rediscover what it means to be a people of God who want to actively join Jesus in changing our world, it is my heartfelt conviction that something as simple as a meal could be a great place to start.

And That's a Wrap!

Well, that’s the run-down on our week at Florida. I began just about every morning with my journal and coffee, so you have read the fruit of those moments of solitude in the sun. It took me awhile to get around to getting everything posted (it’s amazing how time FLIES BY – we got back from vacation on June 11, and it’s now mid-August – 2 months have zoomed by!). But I did. Finally.

I’ll close again with a pitch to check out Ned and Myrtle’s place at Indian Rocks Beach, Florida. Sandy Shores is well worth the trip down, and Ned and Myrtle are great folks to share a week with.

It’s been fun for me to relive the trip, and I hope you’ve gotten a glimpse of the Kingdom. It is all around for us to see, if only we will open our eyes!

Peace!

Broken Shells

I found a few shells on one of our last mornings on the beach. The best I could tell, I was the second person on the beach that day. I was looking for this certain type of conical shell that I really like, but it’s hard to find one in perfect shape. Michaela and I had looked all week with no luck. So on this quiet early morning, I found myself thinking about perfection.

We sure seem to seek – and expect it – from lots of people and even places. Our week of vacation was a good week. Perfect? Nope. But I’m learning to see life more through Michaela’s eyes – she sees the broken shells and just gushes over them – she wonders how much they’d bring on eBay since they’re “soooooo pretty!”

I have two beautiful, wonderful children and a loving wife that keeps us all together. We’ve had a quiet, gorgeous week on the beach. We’ve laughed. We’ve played. I’ve growled less and relaxed more. So, ya, we’ve spent money, spilt fingernail polish and left books unfinished. But we sure are ‘closer to fine’ that we were 7 days ago. And that’s perfect for me. Thanks be to God, who taught me through some broken shells that He loves the imperfect perfectly. AMEN.

Beach Dynamics

Next to Sandy Shores was a larger rental unit that was comprised of maybe 6 different units. So, there was a group of people living basically under one roof that really didn’t know each other too well. They not only shared a huge house, but they shared the same beach area as well. And we got to watch the interaction all week. What was interesting is that early in the week, there were little clusters of people spread out across the beach. No one wanted to be too close, and it showed. But simply in sharing space – in living together – they slowly began to morph into this big mass of laughing, sun-loving people. Nowhere was this more evident than at night. Their unit had a couple of gazebos along with a grill. As the week wore on, folks began to pile into one gazebo instead of staying in distinct groups. A shrubbery border was all that separated us from them, and at the risk of sounding like an eavesdropper, it was fascinating to hear the conversations deepen as the week went on. Names began to be associated with faces and pictures I’m sure were being passed around, as stories of families were told. Superficial questions such as the standard “So what do you do?” were replaced with joys and heartaches of days past. It was not lost on me that these conversations were also being held around a table – there is something sacred about sharing a meal with other people.

As the week drew to a close, it was both sad and awesome to see those who were strangers just 7 days before now embrace warmly and then go their separate ways. I have to believe that friendships were made that week that will survive distance. And I’m sharing their week with you now, because they showed me what it means to be community. Here’s to life together.

Out with the Old

Wednesday night of our week in Florida, we went down to John’s Pass for a little shopping and some seafood. I’ve always loved the history of that area, with the drawbridge, the ancient creaky wharf, and the fishing fleet that docked there. Our last visit there was in 2003. Now, 3 years later, someone has redesigned the area, and it’s all about bright Mediterranean-colored stucco and neon lights. The fishing boats are sharing space with wave runners and parasails. The wharf that always gave you a glimpse of the past is hidden now behind bikini stores. A very cool Buffett-esque shop that is ran by a couple of old hippies has had to relocate from the wharf down to all the glitz on the road, because tourists with their money usually won’t venture too far from the neon. (From their website: "Unfortunately, the Boardwalk shop was permanently closed on September 6, 2005 and is scheduled for demolition, along with the other shops at Hubbard's Marina as part of the redevelopment of the Hubbard's Marina property.")

The night found one question on my mind: “What has our money done to this area?”

Fingernail Polish

On June 6, 2006, Rachelle and I woke up feeling pretty tense – not the goal of your vacation at the beach! Late on June 5, Jacob accidentally knocked a bottle of red fingernail polish to the floor, where it broke and covered a ceramic tile and filled the grout around the tile. By the morning of June 6, the tile has been cleaned, but the grout is stained. Amazingly, we managed to not go-off on Jacob, who just felt terrible. As we were frantically cleaning, I kept thinking about the history of this cottage and was praying hard that Ned didn’t freak! After we cleaned the best we could, I pulled Jacob onto my lap and talked with him. I wanted him to understand that I realized this was an accident. He felt that he had ruined our week, because even though we didn’t yell at him, the stress level was pegged as we cleaned. So above all else, I wanted to clearly communicate to him that “There’s nothing you can do to make me love you less.”

In talking about all of this with the kids, it gave me a chance to teach them a couple of things about life, and about how we are to live life in Jesus. First, accidents happen. And secondly, when they do happen, we can make two responses, which in this case, is to either (a) hide the grout stain – it would have been really easy to roll the TV cart over the spill then make a break for Indiana, or (b) be honest with Ned and accountable for our actions. Life is full of these situations, and in them, we can’t control other people’s responses, but we can control ours. So we finished our talk by praying simply, “Jesus, be near to Jacob – let him not be scarred by this. Bless our honesty and give us clean hands and clean hearts.”

So after breakfast on June 6, I went to tell Ned about the accident. Before we entered the cottage, I offered to pay for any damage and repairs. So I showed him the spill, and he said, “I thought by the way you were talking this would be something serious – this is not a big deal, and we can fix it.”

In 20 seconds, grace restored the peace and rest of vacation. And Jesus answered a simple prayer. AMEN.

Sunsets and Chimay

Dr. Mike Staab moved to Naples, FL from Cincinnati, OH. The way that the Reds have played the last couple of years, who could have blamed him, right? But when he came south, Dr. Mike brought with him a magical elixir; a blend of nature’s goodness that, according to its makers, gladdens the heart of man. Of course, I’m speaking of none other than Chimay. After a little research, I learned that Chimay is brewed by Trappist monks in Belgium, as a way to fund their charitable works. It’s a great story, and you can learn more about it here.

Back to the beach: As a part of life in community at Summit Church, Mike Staab is in a small group in Naples with my close friend Paul Barlow. So Mike passed on to Paul the wonder of Chimay. And when the Barlow’s met us at Sandy Shores, it was only fitting that we popped the cork (ya, that’s right – corked beer!) on a bottle of red lager and enjoyed the magic of a Gulf Coast sunset with a blend of Chimay and great conversation. We were reminded in that moment that friendships can survive distance, and that the Kingdom is bigger than either of our experiences on their own. As day gave way to night, both of our families were able to say, "This was a good day."


So, thank you, Dr. Mike for helping us discover Chimay and gladdening our hearts. And we pray blessings over those Trappist monks – may their charitable works be funded for years to come!