Can I Get An AMEN!

Brothers and Sisters, the subject of our sermon today is food. We’ll be taking our lesson from “The Book of Daniel, Chapter 68, The Lost Chapters.”

Starting with verse 6: “Let the doors of the buffet be opened unto you that you may feast upon the salads, the meats and the fish, and end with a nice piece of chocolate cake, with ice cream. And in consuming them you shall be filled to uncomfortability and your pants shall be tight and your proximity to the bathroom shall be close. But you will be contented.”

Can I get an Amen! Amen! Say it again. Amen!

Fact; Women are into quality and men are into quantity, which is why women love restaurants and men love buffets.

The same rules apply with regards to sex, women want quality, men, well we just want it. Quantity.

But this is really about food so I’ll try to stay focused.

The secret to a long life, according to those who live long, is that food is not their priority. Sounds to me like someone has their priorities mixed up. I want to eat my way to at least 100 years old. Women tend to not focus on food and that may be the explanation as to why women live longer than men, but what’s the fun of living long if you can’t enjoy it and nothing says enjoy like buffet!

Last week I had occasion to be in a town on the Olympic Peninsula for business and decided to pop into a buffet for a “light” lunch, meaning that at lunch they don’t carve roast beef and ham. A group of four young men in white shirts, ties, and name tags were prayerfully pondering whether the buffet was a prudent use of their money. Now I’m not Bill Gates when it comes to money but I have needed some blessings for my family so I convinced them that the “spirit of the buffet” had prompted me to pay for their meal. Why else would they have pulled into the parking lot at the same time if it wasn’t meant to be?

“And they came two by two to the table; and they did eat of foods, both fried and baked, whipped and steamed, and they saw that it was good. They partook of fowl of the ground, fishes of the sea, and they popped those little shrimp all breaded and deep fried and dipped in cocktail sauce into their mouths. So great was their joy that they returned again and again to feast upon the bounties provided by the toothless guy who spoke no English.”

“And they washed it down with endless glasses of pop and milk and they all proclaimed that it was good.”

In modern terms, those boys could eat. I was so proud of them I nearly cried.

I did feel bad though. Just after we sat down together another four missionaries arrived, surveyed the situation, and then announced that they weren’t going to spend that kind of money on a meal. Bless those young men that were already eating for they did not announce that they were eating on my dime. Besides, 8 missionaries in one place is a zone conference in my book and I didn’t see a Mission President. They wandered off in search of a dollar menu somewhere. Hey, sometimes the spirit moves you. It moved me to not pay for four more.

I know that I don’t make the rules, but whoever, no matter what the circumstances were, invented the buffet should get a free pass into heaven. If I believed in sainthood I’d saint him. If I could name a town or a road after him I would. I’d declare a Buffet Holiday. There would be no fasting on this day. Forget sacrifice and service, the rallying cry should be “Buffets! It’s what’s for Dinner… and lunch!”

And his place in heaven should be on the right hand… of the guy who invented bacon.