April Fool's Dinner 365/72 - #72- getting a free lunch

Compilation Sunday: (that special time of week when picture and prose become as one) Chocolate wafer cookies and rolled up balls of taffy make up this dinner. It was made for the girl's as an April Fool's Dinner but I was the fool to think I would trick my daughter, even for more than a second. Her question was, "Is that chocolate under there?"

You know the old saying that there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Well, maybe the original author of such a saying may have been right, but apparently he wasn’t talking about dinner.

The other night Carla and I and the kids went to Chapala’s, a Mexican restaurant, for dinner with Carla's dad. It’s a nice place with decent food and a pleasant atmosphere, albeit a little bit loud for casual conversation. I tried the queso fundito con chorizo, normally an appetizer, as my main course. Those who’ve dined on the same course at El Taco Real, please realize that Raymundo Garcia didn’t steal the recipe from Chapala’s. Anyways, the food was good, the conversation even better. When the plates were finally swept away, we waited only for the bill. Now, normally in such an environment with one check for the entire party, I might put up a disinterested, fainthearted struggle with my father-in-law for the right to pay the bill. I realize it’s a worthless pursuit to wrestle the check away from him, the epitome of generosity. It’s kind of like I’m the Washington Generals and he’s the Harlem Globetrotters. No matter the spirited effort on my part, at the end of the day, the battle’s going to belong to the graying, bearded wonder from Holland.

We waited, but the bill didn’t come. Finally after a spell of time, our waiter arrived, and instead of the bill, he handed out the news, “Your bill has been paid in full.” Nervous sideways glances seized all of us. Did we just hear that right? Was he joking? Was this really the case? Who would pay our bill? What did we do to deserve this? “A gentlemen covered your bill in full” was all the waiter said. And so we were left with our questions and feelings, both wrapped around us tighter than a cloak.

The questions of who were soon swallowed whole by feelings of joy and freedom. The bill, while by no means imprisoning or suffocating, was still a burden that we must face before we could exit the restaurant and carry on with our evening. To have the burden simply erased without any effort at all on our part felt strangely freeing. It’s not the experience that one has on a daily basis. The feeling of freedom was palpable.

It takes not the wisdom of Solomon to see where I’m headed with this post. The spiritual connection is obvious. Having the bill paid relates directly to the cross. Jesus paid the gargantuan bill of my sins with the divine currency of his blood on the cross. This is obvious. Many stories and allegories involving this kind of celestial transaction have been written. Mine is neither all that novel nor perceptive.

What struck me the other night was the feeling. The experience of grace was so profound and vivid. Throughout my whole body I felt the weight of this burden immediately lifted from my shoulders. It was like the shackles and chains fell to the floor with a resounding crash, the sound of which was sweeter than the purest of symphonies. It’s one thing to know forgiveness, to know the power of the cross, to know the value of cancelled sin. It’s another to feel it. To hear the cell door slam open. To smell the aroma of mercy. To feel the divine touch of grace.

The best part is that living the experience of grace makes me want to do it all over again. It makes me want others to be a part of it. Sometime if you see me in a restaurant or want to pay my bill, go ahead. Don’t hold back. Sharing that kind of grace is a beautiful thing.

And then sometime, I’ll do the same.