Cookie Heaven
I have attended many weddings in my life, but I must say that my wedding was the best. I'm biased, I know. But it was an outstanding weekend. My bride is beautiful. The 30th day of August was bright and clear; the sky watercolor blue. Rolling green hills surrounded us on every side. The sun shone strong through the walls of glass into the tall chapel at Riverside Lutheran Bible Camp. Picture perfect. Add to that our large families and numerous friends who traveled many hours to come pray for us and celebrate with us. It all felt like home. We sang our hearts out during the worship service, and we danced the night away in the Dining Hall. I could live in that day forever. Especially with our mountain of cookies. Let me explain.
I wanted to have a potluck for the wedding reception, but we determined that it would be difficult logistically. When we began to discuss the kind of wedding cake we would have, my then fiancé and I both shared that we enjoy cookies more than cake. And...voilá! The idea was born: a cookie potluck. We invited over thirty dear friends and family members known for their culinary skill and generosity to bring one batch (or more) of their favorite cookie. The result was awesome. The table heaped over with cookies! My wife and I stuffed cookies into each other's mouths and then served one scoop of ice cream to each of our guests as they selected unlimited numbers of cookies to fill their plates and inspire their palates. We had more cookies than any group of wedding guests could devour! (Photo courtesy of Mandi Hillman, Serendipity Studios)
The scene of cookies, and really the whole weekend, spoke to me of the abundance of God. Through Jesus Christ we have access to the resources of God, and we have more than enough. God's generosity does not run out. God offers us life to the full, now and eternally. My wedding day ignites my imagination for the grandeur of living in God's abundant, heavenly fullness.
In the meantime, I'll keep enjoying the ten bags of leftover cookies in my freezer.

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