Heaven’s Feast: A Glimpse at the Banquet God has Prepared for Us

Every now and then, God peels back the curtain of heaven and offers us a glimpse into its glory. Sometimes it’s revealed as a judgment scene (Mt. 25:31-46). Sometimes it’s a military scene where God’s people meet the King after battle and escort him in a parade back to the city (1 Thess. 4:13-18). Sometimes the sky is pealed back to reveal the spiritual reality behind the curtain (2 Kng. 6:16-17). Sometimes God invites someone to step into heaven described it as gold streets and pearly gates (Rev. 4:1; 21:15,21).

Then there’s the great banquet meal, a theme often repeated throughout Matthew and Luke (Mt. 22:1-14; 25:1-13; 26:29; Lk. 14:15-24; 22:18 [I might add that Luke includes ten meals in his gospel all adding a layer to the heavenly or eschatological banquet]). Essentially, meals are important to God and his description of the meals invite us into a taste of eternal glory. In an ancient society where no middle class existed, poverty was pervasive and starvation was common, people were living day-to-day (Mt. 6:11a). Thus, a future meal, larger than any Thanksgiving meal we’ve experienced, with God at the head of the table, conjured visions of salivating delight.

Before exploring one of the banquet scenes in Luke 12, a little cultural background is needed. The role of the father and eldest son at the banquet is crucial to the heavenly banquet. During the first century if a family hosted a meal, the responsibility of the father, particularly the son, is to serve the guests. The Son waits on them hand and foot (literally ensuring the guests feet are washed, drinks are filled, and food is set). The father oversees the son to ensure the guests are made to feel welcomed. The shame occurring in Luke 15 is that the elder son refuses to take his place by his father’s side at the banquet for his brother. The greater shame is forcing the father to leave his guest to settle a family dispute. If the older son had questions about his father’s rights, he should have waited till the guests had left to address them. He should have honored his father by standing by his side.

We tend to have that reversed. Our culture, usually, places the women in the serving, hospitality role instead of the men. They cook the meals. They set the table. They welcome the guests. They refill the cups. Daughters are taught to serve while boys are allowed to play (generally).

I saw this worked out – in the worst negative way possible – at a home Cile and I were visiting. The wife and daughter prepared the meal for a church home group. The husband came in from work, washed his hands, ignored his guests and immediately plopped himself down in his recliner and faced the television. After his wife brought his soup to him, some spilled on him. He didn’t shout or yell, but his facial expression and gestures were filled with anger. His message was clear, she was there to serve him and had failed to do so. As I watched the scene unfold, I wanted to bop him in the head with my bible.

So the banquet scene unfolds in a context driven by service, watchfulness and faithfulness (Lk. 12:35-40). In the midst of Jesus’ exhortation, he describes himself as dressing to serve and waiting on those at the table (v. 37). Jesus doesn’t see himself as sitting at the head of the table barking orders, though he has the authority to do so. No, falling in line with his own character and cultural norms, he’s the eldest Son of the Father who honors God by serving us at heaven’s feast.

As I reflect on this future banquet scene, I almost can’t wait to sit at the table with Jesus with him asking, “Jon, is there anything else I can do for you?” It also makes me reevaluate my role as the host in my own home.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified)

Confessions of an Over-Packer

When my boys were packing for Boy Scout camp, they had a list of everything they were supposed to include for the week.  The list made the packing easier as you could check off each item as you packed: uniform, toiletries, shirts, swimwear, compass, flashlight, etc.  No matter how well we followed the list, I always felt like they were leaving something behind when they walked out the door. 

When they attended the National Jamboree, the packing became a crucial element to the camping experience.  Everything they needed for two weeks had to be packed in the duffle bags provided by BSA.  With strict packing guidelines, we did everything humanly possible to accommodate BSA.  We stuffed and crammed two duffle bags full of everything a boy might need for two weeks, and it felt like the kitchen sink was included. 

At the time of writing this article, Cile and I are going through boxes and boxes of things we’ve accumulated over the last 28 years.  As much as we’ve tried to purge – either by giving stuff away or throwing it out – we, like so many others, failed. 

Simplifying our lives to traveling light is the best path to take, and the trend is heading that direction.  The digital era is helping lead the way as books, movies, music, and pictures take up far less space in a home than the physical volumes.  Houses are being built less than 1000 square feet. 

Two stories emerge where “traveling light” is key.  The first comes from the first Passover in Exodus 12:11.  The Israelites were to eat Passover with one hand on their staff, ready to exit the land.  When the moment came, they took what they could carry and hastily departed from Egypt (Ex. 12:33).  The second “traveling light” incident came when Jesus sent his disciples on a short-term mission trip (Mk. 6:7-13).  They were to take nothing with them, except a staff.  No money and no extra tunic.  They were to trust God with their needs, and rely on the generosity of others. 

While I have been on numerous campouts with my sons for Boy Scouts, I’ve never gone backpacking (my sons have).  Packing everything you need for a week on your back is freedom; letting go of all the things I think I need is the ball and chain weighing me down. 

We carry far more through this life than we need, and I’m not talking about suitcases and boxes but baggage.  I can think of two types of baggage we lug around on our journey.  The first is sin (Heb. 12:1).  A life of freedom is a life free of sin and sinful ways.  While many claim that sinful desires should be expressed and pursued, so much guilt and shame often come with expressing those desires, which translates into extra baggage.  For instance, someone makes us mad and we decide to unload on him/her.  We feel good for “getting it off our chest,” but then we realize how much damage we’ve caused, or how embarrassed we are by our actions.  Suddenly, the momentary feelings of freedom are replaced by long-term feelings of guilt.   We carry that baggage of guilt with us for a very long time. 

The second type of baggage is an unforgiving heart.  While Jesus commands us to forgive (Mt. 6:14-15), having a forgiving heart is a different matter.  One might say our ego stands in the way of forgiving; we want that person to suffer.  However, the only one suffering is the one refusing to forgive.  Having an unforgiving heart tends to lead to bitterness and anger, both become excess baggage on our journey. 

While I’m trying to unpack my boxes, I’m confessing that I’ve over packed for the move.  But more so, I need to confess that I’ve over packed for my spiritual journey.  I need to let go of some nagging sins, to forgive myself, and to forgive some people around me.  The result is a lighter load and easier journey.  And isn’t that what we want?                                                                                                   

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)