In my youth my small family spent a lot of time at the dinner (we called it supper) table. Mom had toiled in the untenable heat and humidity of an uncooled kitchen, and she brought forth such savory dishes for my Dad and me to ooh and ahh and eat. There was no menu from which I could choose just mashed potatoes and gravy topped off with syrupy pecan pie ala mode. No, I was obliged to pay my dues by eating every boiled okra, steamed carrot, spitball-sized asparagus and, handy as lawn dart, the alien Brussels sprout.
When Dad passed me some victuals (don’t say “vittles” at the supper table), I had no recourse but to have some (and not a token portion, don’t you know!), say a sincere “thank you, Mom,” then down every last, gagging morsel.
Stocks, pillories, guillotine and, worst of all, the dreaded “switch,” harvested from some menacing hedges in the back yard --- these “tools of education” would be heading my way, with a vengeance, if I refused to eat anything offered.
If you choose to accept this invitation to sample a His Deal luncheon, you have total freedom to speak up, get up or wake up in opposition to what you’re hearing. At these boardroom nooners twice a month we open an ancient Book containing great truths with contemporary relevance, spoken by Jesus Christ.
He’s been turned down before. So He’s prepared once again to offer you a deal you can refuse.
Or seriously consider.