GOD'S KINGDOM IN MY BACKYARD

This past weekend was a good one.

My nephew had a group of friends over Saturday night to celebrate a major milestone in his life.

I want to thank them for including my family in the evening.

Our Lord out did himself in framing the event - at least to my North Georgia sensibilities.

Like a soldier with chocolates, he handed out small prizes to each of the five senses his prodigal mind first dreamed up untold ages ago. The weather was perfect- just cool enough to make the fire enticing. Along with cozy warmth, he gave the clean sharp taste of liquid bread, the smells of roasting food and well nurtured fine tobaccos, the croaking of frogs and laughing children…all within the exotic context (for a middle aged type like me, anyway) of the moonlit coolness of early morning’s lateness.

It struck me as I sat there arguing theology with a young man who was obviously more earnest than I, that this was how it was supposed to be. I knew that in a world that is so transparently bent…this night was a gift.

As wonderful as our Lord’s “framing” was that evening, his truly transcendent work shown in the safety, warmth and community created by the people who were present. This is no small accomplishment in a gathering of drinking twenty-somethings.

I thought of how the world could learn the true nature of celebration from these young men and women. I saw (and more importantly, my children saw) that God’s Spirit makes a difference in how one parties. And thankfully it has nothing to do with being a wet blanket. We are to feast exuberantly with care and concern, with welcome and hospitality, with warmth and safety.

The alcohol worked its biblical magic of making hearts merry. The attractive energy that God designed to spark spontaneously between men and women crackled flirtatiously. Testosterone was present in doses that only a young man can handle and yet… no boisterous fights broke out, everyone stayed clothed and we didn’t misplace a soul. The chaotic power that each of these gifts constantly threaten to unleash was held in place by the underpinning ballast of the Christian gospel. No small thing, that.

Christ was present feasting with us. And the group’s conscious yielding to his claim as Lord of the Feast allowed us to taste a little of what our creator had in mind when he dreamed up each of these dangerous gifts.

The result was as different from the average college party as can be imagined. The ladies were safe, little children running in and out of the circle were welcomed onto laps and middle aged outsiders were included to the point of forgetting they weren’t twenty-five, anymore.

People passing by might have noticed the fire’s warmth flickering on the celebrant’s faces, but they’d have to come closer to know that it was much more...Nothing to see but a fire and some friends, but the reality to be experienced was the very body of Christ.

My backyard had become a Sacrament of what each of us hopes for and an enactment of God’s own perichoretic inner life.

For a few hours my family had become home to these precious people… and they had given us back the same.