Stuffing the Soul: A Feast of Friendship and Faith
The house is still echoing with laughter, the remnants of our feast scattered across the table—proof of a night where friends became something more than friends. Something like family.
I catch myself constantly trying to shortcut my way through life, through relationships, through salvation. It's like I'm always seeking an escape route, willing to slip through any crack. But yesterday, sitting there amid the warmth of our chosen family, I'm understanding something deeper about connection and grace.
When Mary was trying to filp the ham to finish baking and made a mess on the counter, and instead of tension, we all burst out laughing—Me trying to figure out how to get the turkey out of the roaster that was literally falling off the bones, people sitting and sharing and swapping stores"—I saw something of divine grace. No judgment, just immediate, unconditional support. "The Lord is righteous in all His ways" (Psalm 145:17), and in that moment, our little community reflected a glimpse of that righteousness.
These people around me—they've seen me at my worst. Nicole knows about my struggles every year. Becky has watched me fall and helped me back up.Ken and Holli have been our anchors through uncertain times. They don't love us because Becky and I are perfect. They love us, I realized something profound: if God's love is like this—a love that sees completely yet chooses grace—then salvation isn't about getting a quick fix. It's about transformation. Just like how our Friendsgiving isn't about a perfect meal, but about the imperfect people gathered around the table.
My natural instinct is survival at any cost. "Just accept me," I want to cry. But true acceptance—both divine and human—says, "I see all of you, and I choose you anyway."
The turkey might have been slightly dry (My attempt at cooking this year), the pies might have been bought, but the love? Absolutely homemade. Authentic. Uncompromising.
God's love is like this gathering. Not a sterile, perfect arrangement, but a messy, beautiful coming-together. His justice and mercy aren't opponents—they're like our friends around this table, different yet perfectly connected.
Note to self: Salvation—like true friendship—isn't about getting what you want. It's about experiencing something far greater. Something that looks remarkably like family.
P.S. Next year, we're definitely going to do this again.