Jesus once said, “In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and take you to be with me.” The Bible is full of talk about the preparations God has made for his children. According to the Apostle Paul, God prepared in advance the good works he wants his people to do. Jesus spoke of “The kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world.” “God,” said the author of Hebrews, “is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.” It is “The new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.” “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor mind conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him.” “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” “On this mountain, the Lord almighty will prepare a feast…” According to the author of Hebrews, our coming salvation is now ready to be revealed; it has already been prepared.

It’s not just preparations in general the Bible talks about, but preparations for a party. Think of the 23^rd Psalm: “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” Isaiah 25: “The Lord almighty will prepare a feast, a banquet of aged wines. The best of meats and the finest of wines” (Isa. 25:6). We see this in the last chapters of the Bible, when the wedding reception for the Lamb of God is held. God is not only a planner; he is a party planner. He is the party planner. He loves a good party.

Is that how you think of God – that he is full of joy and loves sharing his joy with others? Or is your God more like the old, white-bearded curmudgeon in the sky you see pictured in Renaissance paintings and newspaper comics? Jesus had inside information about what God is like, and he knew his Father to be the most joyous being in all the universe.

This comes out frequently in the stories Jesus told, the parables. There is one genre of parables that is not about how things are or should be, nor about how we should act, but about what God is like. So, for example, when we read the story about the landowner who gave people the same pay whether they worked one hour or twelve, we shouldn’t think this is a prescription for Chrisitan economics. Jesus is talking about what God is like.

And since Jesus’s stories are often about what God is like, it is particularly interesting that they frequently feature a party. There is the party held at midnight in the Parable of the Ten Virgins, and the party in the Parable of the Wedding Reception. There are parties in the Parables of the Lost Coin, the Lost Sheep, and the Lost Son. It’s worth noting, too, that Jesus told many of the party parables when he was on his way to Jerusalem, where he knew he was going to be killed. It was with joy set before him that he endured the cross.

If the stories of the lost sheep and lost coin represent what God is like, as they are clearly intended to do, it seems like God is always looking for a reason to throw a party. The parable of the lost Son features a big party. This is no dinner party for a few close friends but a blowout, a shindig, a full-scale, kill-the-fatted calf gala.

To get our minds wrapped around this, we need to know that Jews in Jesus’s day divided the timeline of human history into two parts: the present evil age (which began with the fall of Adam; and the age to come (in which God will put right everything this age has put wrong). First century Jews believed the age to come would be inaugurated by a cosmic bash, the party to end all parties—the party that will end death itself.

This was the celebration Isaiah had in mind when he wrote, “… the LORD Almighty will prepare a feast of rich food for all peoples, a banquet of aged wine—the best of meats and the finest of wines. On this mountain he will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations; he will swallow up death forever.” (Isaiah 25:6-8). Could there be a better reason for throwing a party?

This end of the age – better, this beginning of the new age – celebration was sometimes called “The Great Banquet” or “The Feast in the Kingdom of God.” Jesus had this feast in mind when he said, “I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it anew with you in my Father’s kingdom.” (Matthew 26:29). In the Revelation it is called “The Wedding Supper” – we’d say wedding reception – “of the Lamb” (Revelation 19:9), with its laughter, dancing, and joy.

God the Father wants us to share that experience with him. His attitude is just like the attitude of his Son, who once said to him, “Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world” (John 17:24). “I want them to be with me where I am.” That is what God is like.

That may be hard for us to grasp because we’re not like that. In our experience, there is only so much to go around. So, if you share it, you have less. But God knows how to throw a party. When he shares, the fun is not divided; it’s multiplied. The one throwing the Great Feast knows how to multiply fish and loaves and turn water into wine, so there will be plenty for everyone. And not just quantity but quality: “the best of meats and the finest of wines.” And, as in the story of the wine at the wedding feast at Cana, he is once again saving the best for last.

In Luke 14, Jesus is at a Sabbath dinner where most of the guests are stuffed shirts, and while he’s there, he heals a man with edema – a fluid build-up in the legs and possibly around his heart. The guests are shocked – it’s Sabbath! Robert Capon compares what Jesus did to being at a formal dinner party and pulling the tablecloth off the table, putting the guy with the bad back up on the table, and doing a chiropractic adjustment on him. The guests would have thought this was outrageous.

Jesus finishes healing the guy and sends him on his way. But if people were hoping to get back to a nice, normal Sabbath Day dinner, they were disappointed. Jesus goes on to offend the guests by calling attention to their status-seeking ways and then suggesting to the host that he might want to invite a different class of folk in the future. The ones from skid-row would be an improvement, the kind who wouldn’t know a truffle from a turnip. If he will do that, Jesus tells him, he will be richly repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.

At that moment, one of the stuffed shirts speaks up and piously says, “Blessed is the man who will eat at the feast in the kingdom of God” (Luke 14:15). Maybe he had his doubts about Jesus being numbered among those so blessed, but I’m guessing he expected to be there himself. But I don’t want to be unjust to this guy. Maybe this wasn’t false piety. Maybe this was a genuine attempt by a sensitive soul to ease the tension, which was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Whatever his motive, Jesus used his comment to introduce another of his party-themed parables. We can read it in Luke 14:16-24.

Jesus replied: “A certain man was preparing a great banquet and invited many guests. At the time of the banquet he sent his servant to tell those who had been invited, ‘Come, for everything is now ready.’ “But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said, ‘I have just bought a field, and I must go and see it. Please excuse me.’ “Another said, ‘I have just bought five yoke of oxen, and I’m on my way to try them out. Please excuse me.’ “Still another said, ‘I just got married, so I can’t come.’ “The servant came back and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and ordered his servant, ‘Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.’ “‘Sir,’ the servant said, ‘what you ordered has been done, but there is still room.’ “Then the master told his servant, ‘Go out to the roads and country lanes (Gk., hedges) and make them come in, so that my house will be full. I tell you, not one of those men who were invited will get a taste of my banquet.'”

The scholar Kenneth Bailey says that a party for two to four guests would require butchering a chicken or two; it was duck for 5-8 guests, a kid for 10-15 guests, a sheep for 15 to 35 people, and a calf for more than that. The party Jesus describes was a two or three-calf party. This was the event of the season.

People invited to a party like this would receive two invitations: the first required an RSVP. The second was sent on the day itself to say, “Everything is ready. Come on over. The party is about to begin.”

The first invitation was sent out to all the right people and they all RSVP’d. But when the day came and the second invitation arrived, one after another said they wouldn’t be coming. One says he just got married, another that he’s just signed a major real estate deal, another is purchasing new farm equipment and has to take it for a test drive. These are big ticket excuses, but they are still excuses. The guy getting married knew when he was going to get married, so why did he RSVP in the first place? It doesn’t make sense. The land deal doesn’t hold water either: if the guy bought property sight unseen, what was the rush to see it now, when the money was already gone?

We are left to wonder why these people would back out of going to a banquet, given by an obviously important person. (Jesus describes him as the master of the house – think aristocrat – and gives him the title “Lord.”) Why refuse to go to a party that is certain to be the event of the season?

It could be these folks don’t play well with others; that they are introverts or misanthropes. Maybe they experience a lot of anxiety at parties and are afraid of looking foolish. Or maybe they just want a night to themselves. But after saying yes, they all back out, every last one of them? Something is going on here.

Jesus may have intended – and his hearers may have understood – another meaning. He may have intended the refusals to be seen as an intentional slight, a conspiracy not to attend by those invited. That kind of thing did happen in the ancient Middle East and still happens today. For example, when a ruler’s authority was being challenged, the invitees might decline his invitation as a way of distancing themselves from him or signifying to his opponent their willingness to change sides. Their refusal to attend the gala was a calculated rejection of the host.

That led the Lord Party-giver to do something entirely unexpected. Instead of saving face by cancelling the party, he went looking for other party guests. Look at verse 21, where the master tells his servant: “Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.”

But even after the servant brought these people to the party, there was still room. So, the Lord sends him out again, this time “to the roads and country lanes” – the hedges, under which the homeless sleep – and tells him to “make them come in, so that my house will be full.”

These are not the kind of people who got invited to swanky parties. I’m about as likely to get an invitation to a White House gala as these folks were to be invited to a party like this. Some of them were beggars, and none of them had anything to offer: no money, no influence, no political power; why, they couldn’t even vote.

Those original invitees wouldn’t come now, under any circumstances. They wouldn’t be caught dead at a party with those kinds of people. That would put them on the same footing with … losers!

Why does the master tell the servant to make people come in? Wouldn’t they jump at the chance to get the best meal they’d ever tasted? Probably not. People like the ones mentioned here never got invited to big soirees like this. And even if, by some crazy mix-up, one of them did, he’d know better than to accept. To attend a party like this put a person in a position of debt. He would be expected to reciprocate, which the people mentioned here could never do. The master says, “Make them come in,” because he knew they knew this was not their kind of party. It’s as if the master told his servant, “Tell them not to worry about repaying me. I know they can’t and I don’t even want them to. I just want them to be here. I want them to enjoy themselves.”

Let’s step back from the story a little so we can get some perspective and, perhaps, see where we fit in. First, remember that Jesus is telling us something about God in this story, and he is definitely not the cosmic killjoy that people (and the devil) make him out to be. If anyone ever loved a good party, it is the God and Father of Jesus Christ.

Neither is this God a snob. He doesn’t exclude people because of their race, ethnicity, or socioeconomic status. He doesn’t care if you’re rich or poor, the brightest light in the sky or the dimmest bulb in the house. He doesn’t worry that his team might get stuck taking the last kid on the playground. He loves having that last kid on his team. He knows he’s going to win anyway, so why not pick her first?

Nor is he a God who is always keeping score. (This is a stumbling block for many people.) God has never said, “You own me one.” The idea is just plain silly. We don’t owe him one; we owe him everything, and he knows we can never repay him. We can be grateful or not. We can love him or not. We can be his man or woman or not. But we can’t repay him. Real estate in the new heaven and new earth is not for sale. It’s not just that no payment is necessary; no payment is allowed. If we don’t take charity, his charity, his bleeding charity, we will be left out in the dark.

This is Robert Capon again: “Grace doesn’t sell; you can hardly even give it away, because it works only for losers and no one wants to stand in their line.” Winners, he says, don’t even want “free forgiveness because that threatens to let the riffraff into the Supper of the Lamb.”[1]

But Capon was wrong. One person did want to stand in their line—in our line. That was Jesus, and he paid the entrance fee for everyone.

If we insist on paying our own way – on proving that we’re not one of the losers – we’re going to miss the party. That is terribly sad because God really wants us there.

Now, if you want to come to the Party – more than that: if you want to join the Party-Giver’s joyous family– stop trying to impress. Stop trying to repay. Don’t make excuses. Just accept the invitation. It was delivered by Jesus himself and purchased with his blood. The message the servant carried in the story is the one God’s Spirit brings to us today: “Come, for everything is now ready.”

Everything except, possibly, us. That is why God is waiting.  (He “is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance” 2 Peter 3:9.) He’s prepared the party for us. Now, he is preparing us for the party, which is a far more difficult and challenging work. But he is up to the job.

[1] Robert Farrar Capon, Parables of Grace