Jesus' parables often end with a tag line; this one's is:
"For many are called, but few are chosen.”
I guess this refers to the banquet hall being full of people who were invited without regard to their suitability, to be evaluated and sorted out later. It’s not much comfort, is it, the idea that just being in the room doesn’t guarantee inclusion in the household of God.
Are we “in?” Do we want to be? Are we actually at the party, or just hanging out on the sidelines? Put another way, are we lukewarm church-goers or passionate Christ-followers? I've heard an Episcopal version of this verse goes: “Many are cold, but few are frozen.” What is our temperature at this feast?
Today try to imagine yourself at a feast, a celebration, whatever that looks like for you. Bring the details to mind.
The room is crowded. Where are you? Near the table, hugging a wall somewhere, or in between? Why are you where you are?
Where is Jesus in that room? Can you have a chat with him?
I’d like to believe we are both called and chosen; I’ve never held to doctrines like predestination or election. At the very least, we are all invited, and we all have a choice to be present to the feast or pass it by. I hope you pull up a chair and pick up a fork – a sentiment conveyed much more eloquently in the 17th century by the priest and poet George Herbert:
Love (III)
Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lacked any thing.
A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?
Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.
- George Herbert, 1593-1633
I guess this refers to the banquet hall being full of people who were invited without regard to their suitability, to be evaluated and sorted out later. It’s not much comfort, is it, the idea that just being in the room doesn’t guarantee inclusion in the household of God.
Are we “in?” Do we want to be? Are we actually at the party, or just hanging out on the sidelines? Put another way, are we lukewarm church-goers or passionate Christ-followers? I've heard an Episcopal version of this verse goes: “Many are cold, but few are frozen.” What is our temperature at this feast?
Today try to imagine yourself at a feast, a celebration, whatever that looks like for you. Bring the details to mind.
The room is crowded. Where are you? Near the table, hugging a wall somewhere, or in between? Why are you where you are?
Where is Jesus in that room? Can you have a chat with him?
I’d like to believe we are both called and chosen; I’ve never held to doctrines like predestination or election. At the very least, we are all invited, and we all have a choice to be present to the feast or pass it by. I hope you pull up a chair and pick up a fork – a sentiment conveyed much more eloquently in the 17th century by the priest and poet George Herbert:
Love (III)
Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lacked any thing.
A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?
Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.
- George Herbert, 1593-1633
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