The Feast
Last night I had a dream. Okay in reality it was this morning and not long before my alarm went off. A good friend and cohort of mine had prepared a feast. A lot of people were there and like most dreams it was a random assortment of people whose are not connected in real life. I am not sure where we were but it seemed like a retreat house. It was packed. But I was frustrated.
You see each time the food came out for some reason I was gone. By the time I arrived, the food was… gone that is. (And I could tell it was pleasing to the palate only because Rich was the cook but also because everyone was raving about it.) It was right there, but I couldn’t taste it. People were having thirds in fact and I had none.
So I waited for the last batch to come from where ever it was being cooked. I waited and waited. The crowd peeled off. Robin went back to our room. In my dream it was late.. way late. It wasn’t that I was hungry per se, it was that I felt left out. I felt like deserved it. I was stubbornly going to wait.
So then it came – huge bins and bins of food. Ironically in impatience I had gotten up and lost my place again but this time I was determined to get my food. I pushed my way back to get the food: huge slabs of some kind of meat BBQ’ed. I remember even BBQ’ed fish and asparagus and other vegatables. I had decided to grab my own bin and fill it as high as I could with food saving some for future days at this place not knowing how many days that was or if meals were always inculded. In fact I determined that it was too late to eat but I was still getting food. I found some aluminum foil to put over the top and starting carrying this scolding hot tray of food.
But the thing was when these bins came out other people had arrived too. I was so busy trying to not get left out again that I had not interacted with them at all. In fact, I was sad as I walked away. These people were joyous and what I realized who they were. Some were some Burmese refugee families that I know. Others were some Africans I have met and other people of color. One couple that had arrived was one I know whose son has been in the hospital of late. I think some were even those who had been working to serve and prepare the food.
As I woke up it dawned on me… these were the poor, the sick, the needy, the nations, the people on the bottom. And I was taking more food that I needed. They didn’t seem to care though. They were joyous that there was a feast and that thy had somethign to eat. I was so caught up into myself that I didn’t interact with them. I was worse than those who had earlier taken thirds when I had none.
Yesterday I heard John Ortberg speak to a group of pastors in the Denver area. Ortberg quoted Dallas Willard and said (I’m paraphrasing from my notes) that we can guage how our soul is by whether we are becoming more or less irritated and more or less discouraged. That when peace dwells within we are less discouraged and less irritated.
Okay it was just a dream but it was real. My soul seems like the man I was in the dream – irritated, discouraged. Not sure why other than I am too preoccupied with myself, my own world, my own needs wants.
I am not enjoying the feast that’s available. I am not willing to wait. I am not willing to identify like Christ did with those who really are in need. I am greedy. I am a glutton. I am in need of grace.
I hope to wake up.
