Y'all, I love to eat. I've tried "dieting" but my desire to look a certain way has never been stronger than my desire to enjoy food. I am unapologetically hungry for gathering and feasting with my people.
I love a home-curated menu. Decadent trays of charcuterie and glasses of wine preluding a fresh-off-the-oven dish, filled in with sides contributed by all the guests, enjoyed around someone's table...passing this or that, filling and re-filling glasses, catching up and swapping stories. Top it off with a fabulous dessert and retreating to the living room with a night-cap in hand, and you've just described my kind of evening.
I also love going out. I love experiencing a menu as it was meant to be experienced. No modifications, no substitutions. My husband rolls his eyes at me for liking "fancier" places (and I'm not talking about 5-star dining here, just anything slightly "elevated"). For him it's mainly about sustenance, at a reasonable price-point, that's at least somewhat enjoyable. While on the average day this is definitely true for me too, there are occasions where I want a different experience. For me, I view it the same way I view going to an art museum or to see a play. There is a story being told and we're being invited into it. Chefs share stories through their food, so whatever is on the menu, I'm there for it. I love experiencing that with friends and loved ones and finding our favorite spots and our favorite menu items and going back to have it again. I love experiencing the story together. Communing.
Food connects us and establishes history. The first time I tried sushi (and liked it) was with my husband. My first Old Fashioned was with my ride-or-die foodie friend, Peggy. Holiday gatherings are never complete without New England style clam dip, the go-to appetizer from my mom's side of the family. I started feeling like a true Miamian when croquetas and a shot of colada began to sound like the perfect on-the-go breakfast, any day of the week (or really, any time of day). I really understood coffee for the first time while training to be a barista at Threefold Cafe. I understood Colombian food better after having sopa de pollo on a chilly, gray day at a tiny restaurant in the mountains of Cali. I understood it even better when my in-laws taught us, over the course of two days, how to make Colombian sancocho.
There is sacrifice required for flavor, be it time, or effort, or stepping out of your comfort zone...I think it's another layer to the "fragrant offering" we talked about before. I've found that it's easier, more comfortable, to turn a blind eye to this part, the sacrifice. I love churrasco...I don't want to see how the cow gets butchered. But, I'm starting to learn that when we understand and appreciate the sacrifice, our relationship with what's on the table changes.
A good wine goes through a lot before it reaches your glass. It's planted, nurtured and cultivated through time and care. It's not harvested until the time is right. After harvest, it's crushed and pressed, fermented and clarified...and then, before it's bottled or even after, it is aged. Cultivation and pressure and time...all sacrifice, for the sake of creating something new.
How can we not think of Jesus? The psalmist's words "Taste and see that the Lord is good" make so. much. sense. With Him at our table we lack nothing (Psalm 34:8-9). Not only are we not lacking, but we have all things in abundance, if we're looking to Him to provide. I think of the gospel of John when Jesus splits five measly loaves of bread and feeds five thousand families to illustrate that He is the bread of life (John 6). I'm always stunned when even the disciples say to him afterward, "This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?" It's like when I'm watching The Chef's Table on Netflix and I see a guy slaughter an animal to eventually be used in his signature recipe. It's hard to accept! I can barely watch without my stomach churning a little inside. But when the chef has a certain respect for the life of the animal, the sacrifice of it becomes more weighty, and the outcome of what he creates is more meaningful. The disciples couldn't bear the idea that Jesus would need to be crucified in order to truly become the bread of life for all mankind. Sometimes I forget what Jesus actually did to bridge the chasm between me and God.
But when I remember...life is so much richer. My relationship with Him is so much richer. The cross was gory and heartbreaking BUT...He rose again to bring new life, and put in us the secret ingredient that would utilize all that makes us unique and turn it into something glorious, in His name. It's the salt of the earth that he talks about in Matthew 5...it brings out the best flavors in us and in the created world.
What makes this even more rich, more bountiful, is that we come to this table in community, to experience this feast together. That's what Communion is. It's a gathering, a remembrance of sacrifice...the blood that covers all iniquities and the body that gives true life abundantly. We come to the Table and re-tell the story together...and it connects us, to each other and to Him.
That's really what I love about gathering to feast...it's another echo of heaven, right here on earth, in the comfort of home or in the hospitality of another's space. It's a story being shared and remembered every time it happens. It's a glimpse into the lives and hearts of others, and therefore a glimpse into the work of God outside our immediate experience. It's a re-centering of our narrative, a humbling of ourselves, a sacrifice of our time and attention and energy.
As I write this, I can't help but feel a little sad because...well, it's 2020! When's the last time any of us gathered like this (and I mean for real, like no masks, no 6-feet rule, and guilt-free hugs)? I have been mourning the loss of our ability to do this regularly, freely, with however many people we want. I'm thankful for the technology that has kept us "meeting" together frequently, but there is something holy and special about meeting face-to-face with other humans in the flesh. Jesus himself had to come in the flesh for the sacrifice to be fully acceptable to God (Hebrews 2). He walked with us, ate with us, reclined at tables with us. I believe we are made to do the same.
But, I also believe that there is a time for everything (Ecclesiastes 3). God in his sovereignty and perfect will allowed this season to take over the world and have us cease from gathering like we're used to. There's a reason for that somewhere. I think many of us are in the messy middle of figuring out what that is, and it might look different for each of us. Some of us needed desperately to slooooow down for a season. Some of us needed to re-connect at home, away from everyone else. Some of us (i.e. me) needed a reminder that in the quiet and hidden places of our life, God is doing some of his best work, and being seen and heard by Him alone is enough.
I do believe that this is a season, and when it ends, and we're able to gather together again, there will be so much rejoicing and a renewed sweetness...and, I think, a renewed appreciation for the sacrifice, both earthly and heavenly, that made gathering around that table possible.
Until then, may we taste and see that the Lord is good...even right now, in the middle of 2020. He is still good. He is still working. He is still present at our table.
For God's glory,
Kayla
Follow me on Instagram! @themessycoffeetable
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