Dear Trailhead family,
The party was lively. People milled around, laughter rippled across the lawn, and the band played a familiar tune.
One couple began to dance, and a few more joined in, grinning at the silliness of it all. The song ended and the impromptu dancers bowed as those around them applauded.
The lights strung up overhead twinkled in the dusk, and the guests flowed between the drink table and the tables laden with food before finding a seat next to friends or strangers to enjoy the meal.
The food was simple but delicious, the kind of food you know without knowing that this was someone’s grandmother's recipe.
The band stuck with well-known songs that people hummed along with, and occasionally, during a popular chorus, tables of people would erupt in singing. The crowd's participation made the musicians smile, and they appeared to be performing just for the joy of sparking joy.
A glance around reveals that these are not people of means, and this is not the upper crust of society. Clothing is clean but not fancy, the language is plain, missing any illusions of haughty-ness or self-importance.
But it would be wrong to call this group shabby, as nearly every person is wearing the most opulent of accessories- a smile.
The dinner party is a weekly affair, a ritual of sorts. Laughter is the liturgy, plates filled with food, the eucharist.
Everyone is invited and so many people have shown up on this particular evening that people are taking turns sitting to eat their meal. But this only adds to the jovial nature of the night, and the host doesn’t seem embarrassed, but rather pleased, that so many had responded to his invitation.
The night was reaching its zenith when the host began to tap a knife against his glass. The hush spread in a slow ripple until even the kids paused their chatter. In the silence, the host cleared his throat and said in a loud voice, “I am so glad that you joined me tonight.”
The crowd responded with a whoop, and one bold fellow in the back yelled, “Only a fool would turn down an invitation to such a party!”
The host smiled at this but turned serious. “That has happened more than you know. When I first had the idea of this party, I invited all my closest friends.”
The host paused, seemingly surprised that this little admission had caused him to choke up. He took a sip of his drink, swallowed hard, and continued.
“I invited friends I had known for years, people who I had gone to school with and worked alongside, and to my great surprise, not one of them came to my party.”
“Their loss,” a lady standing close by murmured.
“Indeed,” the host agreed, overhearing. “And when I realized that all those I first invited were making excuses not to join me, I couldn’t bear to let the food and preparations go to waste, so I opened up the invitation to you, to everyone.”
“Thank you!” a child hollered, and the host smiled, joy returning to his face. Another guest, emboldened by the child, said “thank you,” and soon the sound of thank you was echoing across the lawn.
The host looked around at his guests, and those closest to him could detect tears in his eyes. “It is good, he said, his voice wavering with emotion.
“It is good for my house to be full.”
“A certain man was preparing a great banquet and invited many guests.” Jesus began. “At the time of the banquet he sent his servant to tell those who had been invited, ‘Come, for everything is now ready.’”
“But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said, ‘I have just bought a field, and I must go and see it. Please excuse me.’”
“Another said, ‘I have just bought five yoke of oxen, and I’m on my way to try them out. Please excuse me.’”
“Still another said, ‘I just got married, so I can’t come.’”
“The servant came back and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and ordered his servant, ‘Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.’”
“Sir,” the servant said, “what you ordered has been done, but there is still room.”
“Then the master told his servant, ‘Go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come in, so that my house will be full. I tell you, not one of those who were invited will get a taste of my banquet.’”
Grace and peace be upon you,
Grant