If I had to use one word to describe the first few weeks of our year together it would be bounty. We have had a bounty of relationship, not only among ourselves, but with a host of guests. We have had a bounty of laughter. Eveningfuls of it. We have had a bounty of food; creamy curries, midnight pancakes and bacon, beer-boiled brats with apples and onions, rich chicken salad, spaghetti and meat sauce--variety and flavor and abundance. We have had a bounty of play: highly competitive Cranium games, Lost marathons, fine cigars.

This abundance raises a question. How are we to respond to bounty?

It would seem that our first response should be to simply receive. No good gift comes from anywhere but God, writes the Apostle James. We are children caught up in Christmas morning, as our Father delights in our delight over what great surprises we are about to unwrap. To not be able to simply receive is to be a poor child.

But this can be difficult for us heavily-churched folks. I've often felt that my first response to the good gifts of God is to weigh them in light of my worthiness. Why should I dine on curry? What of the starving? What of the malnourished? These questions, which are vital to a full theology of bounty and essentially tied to the Gospel story, can be arrived at too quickly. To rush to them is to abort the gift. When I do this I end up passing quickly through the gift experience with a sense of guilt, neither experiencing any good nor doing any charity.

This guilt-driven deficiency is at odds with the Kingdom-entering child. The great Reformed preacher Jonathan Edwards wrote "He that truly receives redemption, receives it as a little child." The Reformers were adamant that our salvation is anchored to the idea of simply receiving: we bring nothing, God brings everything. The Kingdom belongs to the empty-handed kid.

And it is not merely our salvation--we are gloriously dependent on the ordinary elements of air and light; we are clay whose forming is none of its own, indulgently partaking in the free buffet of beauty, taste, and joy. To receive well is to posture ourselves properly before YHWH-Yireh, the one who provides, and YHWH-Tsidkenu, the one who is our righteousness.

Another difficulty comes from my own bloated consumerism, which leads me to passively intake without thought or question. This disease is rooted not in an addiction to good things but in a numbing to them. We over-consume because we fail to recognize. We are gluttons not because we enjoy donuts too much but because we do not pause to enjoy a donut well.

Consumerism is passive. Receiving well is anything but passive.

It requires concentration, being aware of the goodness of the gift and the generosity of the Giver. To hurriedly down the fine glass of wine, to skim the poem, to stare at a TV screen in the company of immortals, is to be unaware and thus unreceptive. "Be still and know that I am God," the One who has given you all good things.

It also requires articulation. When a gift is heralded and named, and thankfulness and appreciation are spoken, the receiver embraces more fully the Giver.

So here I am, living in a bounty-filled house, battling on one side the deadly consumerism woven around me and on the other side the guilt-driven overreaction. Its not an old fight. Indulgence or restraint? Revelry or Gnosticism? Self-centered consumption or deficient self-denial?

And the answer is "Yes." There is a time to fast. There is a time to sacrifice. There is a time to enjoy. There is a time to savor.

We begin by standing open-handed, in awe of being created, receiving from the Giver the richness He delights to give.