I am a person who knows how to survive but not a person who always knows how to feast. My family, like many others, often went through the motions of family celebrations like Thanksgiving but without the heart behind it. Years of hurt would fill the room like a noxious gas, stifling and heavy. Though I did not perceive it clearly as a child, this has affected my ability to truly feast as God intended.
As I grew older, this expressed itself in my pragmatic nature that sought to do the bare minimum when it came to celebrations, not because I did not care, but because I did not have an example to follow. I worried about cost and time and whether the energy was worth my investment. Weighing and balancing every ounce, I brought my own noxious fumes into every celebration–fumes of deprivation and want.
I have prided myself on my efficiency, but I am starting to see that the driving force behind this meticulous calculation is fear.
God Loves to Feast
It is not so with God. The most glaring evidence of God’s lavishness is creation itself. Without any apparent reason, He has sprinkled, no poured, beauty out upon us—many times in places that no human eyes can even feast upon it. We are surrounded by a spectrum of colors and smells and tastes that are downright dizzying in their diversity. These things have no real purpose in creation either–we don’t need to taste food in order to eat it. Yet, we do taste–flavorful dishes that not only meet our physical needs, but also overwhelm us with texture and nuances of flavor.
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Tatyana's Table 