The Meal

The Meal

The Gathering

I was seated with a number of people in a hall, in a church that was gothic in design. The hall was a place of fellowship and the interior felt old. This was a group of invited guests that were there to share in fellowship, and a meal. After the meal many would leave and there was to be a smaller group of us who would remain to discuss things of the church. Somehow, I had been invited to be a part of this group. These were recognized leaders of the corporate body of Christ in our region. Whether liturgical, charismatic or any style between we were there on common ground in Christ. The gathering allowed for many guests to mill around, talking, quipping to one another, but mostly having somber conversations. It was one of those days when “small talk” was difficult for me. I ate my meal in personal quiet as the muted conversations swirled around the room. Our meal was to be followed up with a simple cake dessert. Small oblong dessert dishes were brought and set before each of us as the tables were cleared by servers. They moved quietly and efficiently between the long tables of guests. My dessert was set down on top of the dinner plate I had just finished with, the server in his haste had not cleared away my dinner plate first. As I listened to the conversations at our table I saw out of the corner of my eye a server reach past me to bus to dinner plate and utensils. I quickly lifted the oblong dessert plate off the departing dishes, not wishing to miss dessert!

My dessert fork was the last remaining piece of clean silverware sitting before me. I picked up the fork and looked at the simple round cake centered on the dish. It was a dark cake that was not adorned with any icing. It looked heavy with a delectable fragrance wafting up from it. As I was about to gently tug it apart with my fork a small disturbance broke out at the end of our table. There was a very excited older lady leaning into a distinguished looking cleric. As she leaned in she pointed to the dessert plate in her hand and was excitedly asking him, “Do you see it? Does your cake have it too?” It was obvious these two knew each other, he was not dismissive of her at all but took time to acknowledge her and then looked at the small round cake sitting before him. He patiently looked his over all the while the woman was getting more excited.

“Look at mine!”, she exclaimed. “Look closely and see it in the flicker of the candle next to it.” The long tables at which we were sitting had been decorated with beautiful candles of all shapes and sizes. These were lit during our fellowship time and the flicker of all their flame danced across the table in muted beauty.

“Hold your cake up to the candle light, it must be on yours too.” The kindly looking cleric, with his cloaked appearance but warm, soft face moved his cake closer to the candles. Gaze and squint as he may, he couldn’t see anything unusual about the dessert that he was being delayed in eating. I overheard him say, “I’m very sorry to say that I see nothing unusual about this dessert. It looks like a perfectly good cake to enjoy with my after-dinner beverage.” The older lady also squinted at his dessert, now realizing that there was nothing unusual about what he had on his desert plate. Under her breath I could hear her snort a little “Humpf!’ sound and then she straightened up and spoke to our whole table.

“Excuse me please. May I have just a moment of your attention.”

The more she spoke the more the excitement rose in her voice and demeanor. She begins by pointing to the little dessert cake on her plate as she speaks to us.

“Does anyone else see anything unusual about their dessert?... Anything? Look closely and let the candle light illumine the top of your dessert.” A cascade of silence moved across the room as she was being heard. Then you could hear many others asking what she had said and what did it mean?

“Is something wrong with the dessert?”

“Is it safe to eat?”

“What are we looking for?”

The volume in the room rose as others at their tables were beginning to look at the desert that had just been served. As I said earlier, I was eating quietly not really engaging in any conversations that night. I looked down at the dessert that I would enjoy eating and before I broke it open with my fork I tilted it just slightly into the candle light in front of me.  Amazingly, on that dark moist surface I saw something faintly in the candle’s flicker. As I took a closer look I began to see an image that shimmered across the top of the cake as the light struck it. It was faint but reflected back to me muted but vibrant colors, very difficult to put into words. It wasn’t icing, it wasn’t an image traced onto the surface. It was actually an image made of gold leaf that had been baked onto the cake. It had my full attention. I forgot that I was quietly eating there as I was transfixed by this small translucent image appearing on my dessert.

“I see it! I see it!”, I exclaimed, as I sat there mesmerized by this intricate pattern of reflected light on my dessert cake. I was unaware of the commotion that began to develop in the room as that older lady became even more excited that someone else saw it too!

The Image

I was aware of one thing. My breathing. I felt like I was hyperventilating. I could hear and feel my chest heaving, my breath washing in and out of my mouth. I was enveloped in that space and I was fixed upon the image I saw before me. I suddenly had incredible eyesight to see the minute detail of this image. The gold leaf image was an image of the Crucified Christ. The cross he was still attached to was much shorter than what is normally depicted. He was dead. Hanging lifeless and his head and upper torso were slumped forward over his lower body and legs, the cross was embedded in a rock that was shaped like a large chair, almost like a throne had been hewn out of solid rock. His lifeless legs were crumpled upon the top of this rock. I was completely taken back by this very detailed image, but I couldn’t take my eyes off it. As a protestant believer I am not used to this image of Jesus. He is the risen King. The empty cross is the final victory, the healing for all, the redemption of our sins. “It. Is. Finished.”- is our mantra and cry! None of these phrases were present with me. I was transfixed on the image before me. I forgot it was on a dessert cake. I was not aware of where I was or what anyone was doing. The reality of crucifixion was upon me. My entire “life force” was mesmerized into this moment of time. There was no time. There was Christ crucified, on the cross.

From within this scene I hear a voice. A very familiar voice. I’m being asked a question. Not a voice I hear from someone around me but a voice I hear from within me.

“Where are you?”

That’s the question being asked of me.

I think, “Where am I? Why this question?” I ponder this briefly, not desiring to be disturbed.

“I don’t know where I am.”- This was my thought answer.

“You’re still looking at a dessert cake.”, was the answer I heard.

Really?!

All I could comprehend was that I was somehow in an altered state of being. I literally could not touch the reality surrounding me, the meal, the gathering, none of that was within reach. I was within this scene, having a transferred type of experience of some kind…. Hmmm… “Where am I?”

The Confession Place

I saw before me some movement in the image. The amazing detail of Jesus crucifixion had been perfectly wrought upon the gold leaf but the gold leaf had one corner that was lifting off the cake’s surface. It began to peel away diagonally and it drifted off the cake, wafting gently across the air, to reveal another gold leaf image under it. I didn’t want to lose this amazing image that transfixed me but as soon as I saw what laid beneath it my concerns diminished. There, in amazing detail, was another image. It was me, on my knees, actually more like sprawled out on my knees, my head in my hands and my hands resting upon the seat of the rock throne. No cross. No crucified Christ. Just me, sprawled out across this throne.

As I looked upon this image I wept. I wept for both joy and anguish. I knew this place was significant, therefore I had joy. I knew this was a place of horrendous battle with a victory won at a terrible price. I wept.

“Where are you?”, the familiar voice spoke in a tone that bid me to answer.

This time I answered by words, “I am at the hidden place.”

Swirling, overwhelming presence flowed through me. Every synapse and neural network seemed to come alive at the same time. My physical body was caught up in a swirling presence of significant power. Is this the dance of Triune God? Have I been invited into His fellowship for this microscopic moment in time? Just as quickly, it ceased and I was staring at the image before me as a new person. I began to understand where I am. I began to see the significance of the two images. “I am hidden in Christ”, was a thought going through me. “not I, but Christ who lives in me.” Was another thought. Colossians 3:3, Galatians 2:20. I know these scriptures but what don’t I know?

What I didn’t know is that my confessions are hidden in the crucifixion. The crucified Christ IS the hiding place, the only hiding place, that brings life change. It is the forgotten place. What I confess there is forgotten as if it had never been. It’s literally covered, hidden by His crucifixion. That’s the crucifixion of Christ part. My confession there, at the rock throne is my part. This is the only place where confession of sin is forgiven never to be remembered again. It is the path to the rest of the story, “Not I, but Christ who lives in me…”. His crucifixion overlays my confession… always. I’m not “re-crucifying him” like religion used to tell me. He had full disclosure about the terrible price to be paid for mankind and chose to follow through on it. The empty rock throne is hidden behind His crucifixion. It is there for me to go to, to be present with, to cry out upon, at any time. It is a place of hiddenness. It is a place of freedom. It is wet with the tears. The tears of all who confessed. The tears of joy for all who are raised with Christ. As a protestant believer, I can now look at a crucifix and thanksgiving rises within me. I can look at the image I saw in the gold leaf and be reminded that I am hidden in Christ, there’s no foot hold for shame in my life. The phrase, “It is finished” is more than the empty cross. It contains the rock throne where my sprawled-out confessions are heard and hidden forever.