We were all under the sentence of death. We’ve all been crippled by our sin and the sin of others. We do not belong at the table of the King, but he invites us anyway because of a promise he made long before we were born.
The difference between us and Bo is our seat at the table cost the King’s son his life. We should live every day in awe of the fact that we are invited guests at the table of the King, but we don’t.
We lose sight of the fact that we are hopeless and helpless without the grace of the King.
We become connoisseurs:
- Why is the music so loud? Or not louder?
- Why don’t we sing more hymns? Why do we sing so many Tomlin songs?
- The building is too warm, too cold, too bright, too dim.
- The sermon is a little long. The theology doesn’t line up exactly with mine. The preacher tells too many (too few) stories.
We become critics:
- I don’t like the way he greeted me or didn’t greet me.
- I don’t approve of the way she dresses.
- I can’t condone how they are raising their children.
We become so obsessed with how we want the food prepared we forget we don’t even belong at the table. We forget we were hopeless and helpless until the King invited us to join him.
Ephesians 2:12 (NIV): Remember that at that time you were separate from Christ, excluded from citizenship in Israel and foreigners to the covenants of the promise, without hope and without God in the world.
I wonder how our experience changes if every time we walk into a church we are stunned that we are allowed through the doors?
If every time we sing a song or hear a sermon we remember we don’t deserve to eat a crumb of the feast laid out before us?
If every time we take communion we remember that our invitation to the table cost the King’s son his life?
What if every day we approach the King’s table like Bo?
