Jeremy L. Berg

I took in the beautiful landscape as we approached the cabin door. “Everybody’s waiting to meet you,” Jesus said.

Gulp. Now what? I was anticipating a private weekend alone with Jesus. I was hardly in the mood for a party.

As the door opened on the small cabin a rush of joyous noise greeted me. Laughter. Hilarity. Music and dancing. Conversations in multiple languages.

“We’re just in time for the Father’s weekly bash,” Jesus informed me with a wink. I was completely caught off guard and unprepared. It was by no means a small gathering of friends playing a quiet board game over drinks. It was an all out bash!

“You’ll have to excuse the raucus,” Jesus warned, “the Father invites EVERYBODY to the party — and keeps company with some…well…let’s just say questionable characters.”

Jesus was not exaggerating. As I scanned the room I saw a toothless homeless-looking guy with unkempt hair joking around with a clearly intoxicated man in a military uniform. In the far corner some mob-looking guys in suits played cards behind a cloud of cigar smoke. Women of the street stood by in highcut dresses sipping wine and casting curious glances. A front porch jug band  filled the room with a catchy downbeat as people shuffled about the room with contagious smiles.

“Can I get you a drink, Jeremy?” Jesus asked. I didn’t even hear him the first time — my mind was too consumed with shock and disbelief at what I was observing.

When Jesus invited me to get away to his cabin for the weekend, I was envisioning something like a quiet monastic experience. A silent retreat filled with insense, candles, guided meditation, prayer walks. If there were other people involved, it would be chanting monks in the background or other retreaters keeping to themselves during meal times in a camp dining room. But this? This felt more like a rowdy frat house kegger!

I was not in the mood. I felt out of place. I was disturbed — even offended — by the company. I was speechless. I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

Reading my thoughts again, Jesus asked, “What’s the matter? Who did you expect to find at the Father’s party?  A room full of religious people?”

Of course, I should have known. I’d read the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ questionable company many times. During his ministry people said, “Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners” (Matt 11:19). I’d even preached on it. But now actually being thrown into the situation it all seemed more scandalous in person. And my initial reaction was disturbingly similar to the Pharisees.

“Jeremy, the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these,” he said looking out across the room full of misfits and outcasts, offenders and sinners. “It’s not the healthy who need a doctor but the sick — I have not come to call the righteous but the sinners” (Mark 2:17).

Just then a bulky bearded man behind the bar — the man everyone called “Big Si” — yelled out, “Jesus, we’re out again!”

“Excuse me for a moment,” he told me as he walked over to the bar. The crowded room parted like the Red Sea and a suspenseful hush replaced the commotion. All eyes were on Jesus as he went to the sink behind the bar. He turned the faucet on as if to wash his hands, but then the room erupted with cheers, hugs and high fives. Big Si filled a glass full of the golden brew pouring from the water faucet and raised it high for a toast:

MAY OUR VATS ALWAYS OVERFLOW WITH NEW WINE (Prov. 3:10)!

As Jesus returned, he concluded his lesson for me: “Remember Jeremy, I have brought you here this weekend to show you how I do life and teach you the unforced rhythms of grace. If you want to dance the Kingdom Dance, you need to learn to love and embrace broken, messy people — people whom God is just beginning to work on. Oh, we’ll have plenty of quiet time to ourselves this weekend, but you cannot be my follower without also welcoming the new, dysfunctional family that comes with it.”

I looked around the room at my strange brothers and sisters and nodded. I understood.

As the music and dancing resumed and laughter again filled the room, Jesus asked me again, “So, what will you have to drink?”

With a smile I asked, “Any chance you can make Mountain Dew flow from that thing?”