NO MORE CRUMBS

Picture by Shipra Panosian Photography
Picture by Shipra Panosian Photography
Picture by Shipra Panosian Photography
Picture by Shipra Panosian Photography
Picture by Shipra Panosian Photography

These pictures capture of one of my favorite moments of the year. Partly because I forgot to practice walking in my big poofy cupcake princess dress, partly because our “aisle” to the altar was like a mile long DOWNHILL, and partly because my dad and I were cracking up as he tried to not be blown away by the cupcake skirt. The wind was strong that day.

It’s also one of my favorite moments because it had be pouring rain for two days straight and had been forecasted to rain all weekend. I had wrestled with this for weeks because, excepting the dumpling hour, the entire wedding was outdoors. We had prayed for it to be “as dry as when the Israelites walked across the Red Sea” because I told God, “I don’t care about rain except that our guests would have wet feet. I am a host, but you’re a better host, and you have power to stop the rain. Wet feet are not ok, Lord! Think of those southerners! Bring dry ground.” And somehow the rain stopped and the sun came out a few hours before the ceremony. And there I was, trying not to roll down the aisle with my unwieldy dress, laughing and almost gleeful that my heels weren’t sticking into the mud because there was no mud! The ground was dry. “Oh, how the Father loves you,” said Rosa to me that morning. Oh, what a gift! My heart burst with delight. I didn’t trip.

And then there was Andrew, with his dewy eyes and kind smile. People we loved surrounding us, our parents’ blessing, and a holy covenant.

The Father’s hospitality is thoughtful, thorough, and sometimes outrageously over-the-top. Almost uncomfortably so. Like, who am I? In my Chinese-American family, when we get “too good” gifts, we say “No, you must be crazy! You better have got that on sale!!” Surely we are not worthy of such generosity. And so with God, with his pure goodness and overflowing banqueting table, we often say, “No way, who am I?” We shy away from giving our desires to him, acting like a servant in the corner who may scrounge some crumbs if we’re lucky. We think his guests must be befitting of his riches on his table, “worthy” in some way to have a seat. And yet in his upside-down kingdom, the guests we wouldn’t think fitting to sit at the table of a king, He deems worthy of high honor. He says, “Come out from under the table silly Kata, and take that crumb out of your mouth. Sit here and feast with me.”
In some moments, our souls are awake enough in surrender to see the lavishness of his sheer delight for us. This year has been marked by his generosity; it has been confounding me, changing me, softening me. Crumbs are not satisfying, after all. In the next few posts, I’ll be reflecting on some of the moments of God’s generosity where I heard clear invitations from groveling and eating crumbs to standing tall and feasting at the table; moments experienced through elaborate cakes, a Chinese banquet, lavish grace when my head was bowed in shame. My hope is that your eyes will be opened to see the Father’s generosity towards you. He hasn’t forgotten you. He is inviting you to the table, also. The food is really good, and the Father’s prepared a seat for you.