The Guest of Honor

"Dear Mr. Petersen," the letter began, "we would like to extend to you an invitation to join us as our guest at a dinner being given in your honor. Because of your outstanding personal integrity, your impressive list of accomplishments, and your constant reliability, we wish to have an evening with you in which we can celebrate you and all that you stand for ..."

There were, of course, the rest of the required blah-blah. When, where, what to wear, all that stuff. And my wife assured me that they were serious and I should go. So we RSVP'd and, on the appointed evening, showed up for the affair.

I was amused at first at the appearance of the place. I'm a farmer by trade, accustomed to barns and wood buildings and rustic places and all, and they had this place all made up in modern architecture, fancy lighting schemes, and other displays of modern technology. Obviously the place wasn't chosen with me in mind. "But, hey," I thought, "a place is a place." So we went inside.

The music was a bit harsh for my taste. I guess "harsh" isn't the right term. I'm a good ol' boy, and one might have thought that they would have played "good ol' boy" music because, after all, I was the guest of honor. Instead, this was some pretty heavy rock music with, I guess, some hip-hop stuff mixed in for good measure. It would not have been my choice of music.

We were greeted by the guy in charge who thanked us for coming and showed us to the table where we would eat. Funny thing. It wasn't in front. There was a table in front, and all the big wigs who were throwing this thing were there shaking hands and smiling, but we weren't shown there. We had a nice table, though, so I wasn't complaining.

I was complaining when they brought out the food. It was a vegan meal. A vegan meal! In my honor? I'm a rancher. I raise and sell cattle ... you know ... so people can eat them. I am a carnivore! "No," my wife assured me calmly, "you're an omnivore." So I kept my mouth shut and chewed on the rabbit food.

The evening wore on in the same way. They mentioned my name a lot. People applauded from time to time. Very few actually noticed that we were there. They took up a collection to support more of these dinners and more of my work. Of course, what exactly was my work wasn't really discussed, but I suppose that's not my concern. I was able to slip out unnoticed and we went on home. I wasn't exactly sure, when it was all said and done, why I was invited or what it had to do with me except to mention me and my work. Oh well, on to what I'm doing ...

Do you ever wonder if God feels that way when He comes into our houses of worship? We tailor our music to suit the people who come. We tailor our gatherings to appeal to visitors. How much attention do we pay, in our planning or our operation, to the One about whom the whole thing is supposed to be? Just wondering ...