The Feast Where God Wipes Every Face

(from Isaiah 25:6-9)

High on a mountain,
where the air is bright and clean,
God is setting a table.

A long, long table,
with room for everyone he loves,
and a chair with your name on it too.

The very best food.
The richest, the sweetest,
the kind that makes you close your eyes
because it tastes so good.
And cups poured full,
and poured full again.

You are invited.
You.

But first there is something true to tell.

There is a thing that lies over the whole wide world
like a heavy gray blanket.
You can feel it on sad days.
It is the reason people cry.
It is the reason chairs sit empty.
Its name is death,
and it makes everything ache.

For a long, long time
that blanket has covered every land,
and no one,
no one at all,
was strong enough to pull it off.

Then, on that mountain,
at that table,
God reaches out his hand.

He takes hold of death itself,
the thing that no one could fight,
and he swallows it up,
gone forever and ever.

The blanket is lifted.
The light comes pouring in.

And then,
oh, then,
God comes close.
Closer than anyone has ever come.
He bends down beside every face that has ever wept,
yours too,
and with his own hand
he wipes the tears away.

Every tear.
The ones everybody heard,
and the ones you cried in the dark
where you thought no one saw.
He saw.
He kept them.
And now he dries them, one by one,
until your cheeks are warm and clean
and there is nothing left to cry about.

No more crying. Ever again.

And all his children, gathered in from everywhere,
will look at each other and laugh,
and they will say:

"This is him!
This is the One we waited for!
We were sure he would come,
and look,
he came!
Let us be glad,
let us be so glad,
for he has saved us."

When Isaiah saw that mountain,
he was looking far, far ahead.
He was seeing a day still coming.

Do you remember the green branch
growing from the dead stump,
the King God promised to send?
This is his mountain.
This is his table.

That King would swallow up death,
not from far away,
but by walking right into it himself,
and coming out the other side,
alive.

His name is Jesus.

And the feast Isaiah saw
is the feast Jesus is getting ready right now,
this very minute,
for the whole big family,
so that not one chair stands empty.

Already the light is creeping in
under the gray blanket's edge,
and you can feel a little of the gladness now.

One day you will sit down at that table,
and he will bend close,
wipe your face with his own hand,
and say, "No more tears. Come and eat."

He promised.
And he will not be late.