A Scriptural Call for Renewal . . .

DINING WITH CHRIST

Behold, I am standing at the door and knocking. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and will have my meal with him, and he with me. — Rev. 3:20

In our treatment of the theme “Renewal through Recovery” it is our plan to select certain key passages that sound the call for renewal and study these with some depth. The series will run for all of 1969, through the whole of this volume, giving us opportunity to deal with quite a number of passages.

The scriptures are selected with the idea that renewal in our time must begin with personal consecration and devotion. We are not to be judged by our institutional relationships. Congregations as such will be neither saved or lost. We go to heaven or hell one by one, not in the aggregate, and certainly not on the ground of being in the right church. It is one’s relationship to the Christ that counts, and that is all that counts. If one is right with Christ, all other relationships will be in the right perspective. He will knowingly do nothing wrong. It is inconceivable to me that any eternal harm can befall a man who is devoted to Christ and is giving his all to please Him.

Perhaps he has not yet been baptized aright. He may not yet be officially or completely a Christian. He may even be in the wrong church (and which is the right church?). He may be wrong about a lot of points of doctrine. Still it is contrary to the nature of religion and the goodness of God to conceive of any man as lost in hell who lives a life of devotion to Christ.

On the other hand it is indeed risky to judge a man’s righteousness by his church membership. Or by how right he is doctrinally. Or by how faithful he is to institutional religion. One may be among the best of church members and yet far from Christ. “If any man be in Christ . . .” refers to far more than being immersed. It refers to a relationship that is deep and real. Christ is both friend and Lord. He lives within. It is well illustrated by the communal meal referred to in the passage we have selected. The idea of dining with Christ may sound a bit farfetched. Yet it is not only scriptural but an experience that can become real to every believer.

There is something about eating together that is conducive to the closest of relationship. I recall a box-dinner night at a small country school when I was a small lad. There was a Becky Thatcher-type girl that I had a crush on, though no one knew it but me. I felt too inferior to make the slightest overture, except that on box-dinner night I managed to draw her name and buy her box. That meant we would eat it together! Just the two of us! I cannot recall that this led to anything significant, but dining with “Becky Thatcher” was an unforgettable experience.

Is it going too far to say that the Christ wishes to share a box-dinner with us? Just the two of us, talking and sharing together. He is the knocking Christ, standing there, beckoning for entrance. To admit Him we must love Him. When we want Him near, He will draw nigh. He will knock, but He will not force His way. The thought of dining with Christ, not just once but throughout the banquet of life, seems too wonderful to contemplate.

While I have dined with very few famous people, I have shared meals with many wonderful people, and these are among my most satisfying experiences. As one of a group I once had tea with Chiang Kai Shek, president of the Republic of China, which was indeed a thrill and with lots of protocol. I have dined privately with university presidents, deans, scholars, poets. To sit and talk with Paul Tillich, William Barclay, Nels Ferre, Henry Cadbury, and Harry and Bonara Overstreet has been thrilling. Even more important are those private moments with thousands of wonderful friends in Christ all over this nation and the world.

Most of us know little about the world of the rich and famous. It must be most satisfying to dine with the kings and queens of earth—with Queen Elizabeth at Westminister Abbey and with the President in the White House. Should such an invitation be mine, I probably would not be able to think about anything else until it became a reality. My pride would overwhelm me. I would want everyone to know. Imagine what big talk it would be to say, “I’ll be leaving tomorrow for London for a private dinner with the queen, and on my return I’ll be a guest at the White House and have lunch with the President.” Anyone who would be gallivanting around like that would be a big shot sure enough.

I have been a guest in the home of a rich man only once, who happened also to be a brother in the Lord. He lived in a castle, and it was so imposing that once I arrived I could not distinguish the front door from the back door. There were many doors. I guessed at it and was received by a maid in the kitchen or one of the kitchens. The man’s garage was as large as many homes, and the grounds surrounding the place were like a park. The brother lived there alone, with maids and housekeepers attending him. When we dined in the small dining room, two maids attended us, one for him and one for me! We conversed in one living room one time and another the next, avoiding the larger ones because of their size. There were 40 rooms in all, some of which were massive in size. In leading me to my private room and bath, designed in matching marble, we passed 6 or 8 bedrooms. Indeed, I was among the rich. The brother’s most burdensome problem was how to give away his millions wisely. He learned along the way that our people were willing to overlook things like instrumental music in order to enjoy his fellowship and his money. That is one way to solve the problem of brethren disfellowshiping each other. Make all the digressives rich! Our folk can be very loving and brotherly even to those “in error” when they happen to be rich.

But all this, whether kings or presidents or the rich, means nothing at all in comparison to the experience that awaits the believer who is willing to answer the knock of the Christ at the door of his heart.

The scholars point out that the word for meal (or sup in the King James) in this passage is a very significant Greek term. The Greeks had separate words for the different meals, just as we do in breakfast, lunch and dinner. Their breakfast was a light meal, usually only bread dipped in wine. The noon meal was also light, being only a sack lunch. But the deipnon was the main meal of the day. In the evening the family would gather and talk, lingering long at the table. This was the word Jesus used when he spoke of having a meal with us. It is unhurried, quiet, nourishing, intimate.

Lingering with Christ in peaceful communion. This is the picture. The how of this kind of experience has no easy prescription. It is not something one turns off and on at will. It is a kind of life, life in the Son, that comes through a surrender of self. It is a matter of cultivation, with the Holy Spirit, as a heavenly guest residing within us, serving as the gardener. Love, peace, joy—the menu in a communal meal with Christ are the fruit of the Spirit, not our work. We don’t dine with Christ by trying harder to be spiritual, but through yielding of our will to His.

We dine with Christ by feasting upon His word, by relating the Scriptures to our deepest needs. We dine with Him by taking Him unto ourselves and sharing our most intimate problems. We dine with Him in meditation upon His goodness, purity and gentleness, by desiring to be like Him, by praising His name, and exulting in His magnificence.

A psychiatrist once advised a Christian patient to behave as if Christ were his constant companion. The patient lived alone. “When you prepare breakfast,” the psychiatrist said, “set a place for Jesus. Talk to him during the meal.” He suggested that as he walked the street he should think of Jesus being at his side. “Talk with Him all along through the day as you would a constant companion. Include the small talk about weather and all the rest,” he advised. He wanted the patient to act as if Jesus were physically present, and so he was to talk to Him aloud, wait for Him at an open door or at the elevator, and all that.

It sounds like a strange prescription, but this gets close to what our passage is suggesting. The prescription worked for the patient, restoring his mental health. What power would it bring into our lives if we arose each morning with a sense of the presence of Christ! If we could feel Him at our side at the factory, in the classroom, at the hospital. The idea of “Pray at all times in the Spirit” (Eph. 6:18) probably has reference to this continual communion with the Lord rather than to tongue-speaking. The indwelling Spirit makes possible a personal relationship with Jesus that is like an unending prayer.

The apostle Paul experienced this, for we find him saying, “For me to live is Christ.”

Renewal begins here, in our own hearts.—the Editor