Roast Beef at Midnight

A friend of mine shared this anonymously, and I will do the same:


ROAST BEEF AT MIDNIGHT WITH A “DEAREST FRIEND”

Picture that you’ve been invited into the castle to meet and serve the king. Everyone else is making a huge deal out of going into the presence of the King. They insist you must be so prepared, prim, proper, and adhere to all kinds of etiquette. If you don’t, you’ll offend Him. He really is perfect you know, and can’t stand anyone to be imperfect in His presence.

Finally, you find your way to the throne room. It is huge and it is filled with people, starting all the way at the back of the room, where you enter. The people–especially the ones at the back of the room are cringing and shaking. They couldn’t possibly bring themselves to move one bit closer to the King. In fact, several of them take advantage of you coming in to hurriedly sneak out the open door, pretending to themselves that because you opened the door, they don’t have to take responsibility for leaving.

You turn, now, and observe the people that fill the room.

As you picture this scene you could draw your visualization from some movie you’ve seen, if you need to. “The King and I,” or “King Author,” or whatever. Just picture a king, dressed in royal robes, sitting on the top of a “great white throne.” Everyone (who wants and needs to talk to Him in this attitude and fashion, in this spirit) is taking their turn communicating with Him from this great distance. He is on the great throne, so far from them that they can hardly see Him. They may even need to be bowed down in the posture of the subjects in “The King and I,” with their faces pressed to the floor. They are so lowly and He is so high and mighty and royal and above and beyond them. They think He wants them to relate to Him that way, when all along it is they who are dictating how they feel most comfortable relating to Him. But you don’t know that yet, and neither do they–since they’ve never believed and thus never tried to get any closer to the King or to behave any other way but in “throne-room reverence and etiquette.”

You don’t relate to how these people are relating to the King. You feel respectful of their choice and their need, but you just can’t honestly relate to Him that way. There are even rumors among some of them that the King is not a human being, that the King is really just a Spirit or essence or power. You can’t blame them for not knowing any better, since this is as close as they feel prepared or needy enough to get.

But you need to get closer. So you keep seeking a way through the crowd, inching your way toward the throne and the King.

Eventually you get right up among the people who are closest to Him, and you find that from that distance you can see that most definitely the King is a Man. A glorious man, but a man nonetheless. A human being like yourself. But, even here, the vast majority of the people around you are continuing to act as if they must bow and even grovel in front of him.

There are people around you with robes of authority on and they are telling everyone to keep their distance, that no one can be worthy enough to come close to him. Confused, and not wanting to offend anyone, you box your head and close your eyes and try to be reverent enough to deserve to be in his court.

*****

The scene changes. It is late that evening. You’re exhausted and hungry. Those who needed the King to hold court and to relate to him in a “courtly” and formal manner kept him and themselves and you (because you were trying to relate to the King in the way the people closest to Him insisted He must be related to) in session for what felt like forever. There had been no time left for dinner, even. And now it is the middle of the night. You know its all against propriety and etiquette, but you’re starving and you’ve got to find something to eat, so you leave your room and find your way to the kitchen. Luckily, all is still in the halls of the castle. Everyone seems to be sequestered in their rooms, either deep in exhausted sleep or studying up on what to present to the King when He returns to His throne tomorrow.

You creep downstairs, and eventually find your way to the kitchen. As you slowly push the door open, you’re surprised to see another person slicing some roast beef and getting ready to make themselves a sandwich. All the condiments and fixings are spread out on the counter. He dressed in a very average looking bathrobe or housecoat and slippers, but his back is to you, so you don’t recognize him.

“Sir,” you ask, “I’m very hungry. Could I possibly grab a bite of something, too.”

Without turning, the man laughs heartily and welcomes you with a good natured, “Of course! Of course! I always expect someone to find their way down here. I mean, it gets so intense and drawn out during the day. So many people are so sincerely serious, and seriously sincere about being “in court.”

Gratefully you come into the room and sit down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

Soon, your benefactor turns and comes toward you, carrying two luscious, abundant sandwiches. He directs you to the refrigerator to get the milk. You pour some for both of you and you and him begin to eat and laugh and talk and converse. He’s the nicest, most easy-going, unpretentious person you’ve met so far since coming to the castle. You feel like you could tell him anything and he’d laugh about it and put everything in a better light. And you do. You and Him talk and talk for hours.

Finally, you realize that its been hours and you excuse yourself for taking up so much of his time. He laughs and assures you again that it has been his blessing and pleasure to spend this time with you. He invites you to come back again the next night–or better yet meet him out in the garden where he’ll be playing with the children in the morning before court. He hugs you and invites you to join Him anytime you’re hungry or need to a break from all the heaviness of life the way others choose to have it there in the palace.

You return to your room and fall into a peaceful, hopeful sleep, feeling reassured that there’s someone serving in the palace that is as simple and unpretentious and joyful as this kind man. Maybe you could find out what position he fills and sign up to be in his profession. You’ll have to ask him when you go hang out with him and the children, later.

But, later, when you do awake, its to the sound of people calling that it is time to get dressed and made perfect to return to the presence of the King. You hurry to make yourself appear as clean and perfect as possible. As you’re hurrying down the hall toward the throne room, you see from a great distance a man come indoors carrying a child on each arm. Another child is clinging to his back, riding his shoulders. Others are holding on to his legs. Lovingly, he sets each one down and kisses them goodbye and disappears into the anteroom to the King’s chambers.

My goodness, you wonder. Was that person with the little children clinging to him the same man that became your dear friend, last night, as he shared his private feast with you? He must be one of the King’s own servants! After all, he just disappeared into the King's chambers. How could he go into the King’s presence covered with stains from the lawn and dirt from the ball field, with smudged kisses on his cheek and rumpled clothes and unshaven face.

Puzzling, you hurry on and come into the back of the huge throne room. Once again you observe that each person who enters the king’s presence gets to come just as close or stay just as far from him as they decide to, and as they feel comfortable with. Quickly you hurry toward the front of the room and take your place–where you feel comfortable–among those who are closest to Him and know Him to be a fellow human being–exalted, but human.

Suddenly the trumpets are sounding, signaling the King’s entrance. The doors to his chambers open, and you are taken aback for a moment. You would have sworn you caught a glimpse of a man being helped most hurriedly into exquisite robes, and just as hurriedly adjusting a crown on his head, brushing his hair back out of his eyes. But, then just as suddenly everyone rises and you, being not as great and learned as those others around you, can’t see over them. It is only when they all bow before Him that you are left standing, staring at the Man who has just taken his place on the throne. . . . Staring at the Man who spent the night laughing and talking with you in the kitchen. Staring at the Man who listened to you from the depths of your heart and spoke to you from the depths of His. Staring at the Man who spends His time relating to people just the way they need Him to, just the way they believe He should.

As your eyes meet His, He smiles and winks. You seem to hear His voice again, “Come back anytime. I’m always around. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your friendship.” He said those words to you. This Man who sits enthroned in yonder heavens. And in His spare time walks dusty roads, caresses lepers and corpses, cleansing and restoring them to wholeness, and plays with children and eats roast beef sandwiches in the kitchen at midnight.

This is the God that has revealed Himself to me. If I am deceived, my deception is sealing my heart to this God I now know. This God who doesn’t take hostages, want victims or even subjects or servants. This God who wants friends and equals. This God who clothed my uncreated self/intelligence in organized matter and gave me sovereignty and agency. This God who delights in me. With Him I am empowered to learn the principles of eternal life and partake of His constant companionship and become my truest and highest self.

And not just in the throne room, but in the kitchen and in the playing fields and in the wilderness where I walk a lot. He is willing to be there with me. In fact, I have the distinct impression that He prefers laughing and playing and “pulling sticks” with the “boys,” to be treated with pomp. That’s for those who need to see Him that way. He’s willing to condescend to all our needs. He is as comfortable in the kitchen or on the wilderness trail after a week of hiking and no warm shower, as He is in the robes of Godhood, holding court.

I love Him. I know Him. He loves me and knows me. I hold nothing back from Him and He shares everything He can with me that He knows I’m ready to bear.