It must have been sometime in the mid-1980s when I experienced both the thrill of unrestrained excess and the brutal consequences that followed, all in the span of an hour. It took place at a wedding reception in our church fellowship hall. These were the days when most couples had their wedding receptions at the church fellowship hall, and whole families were invited to attend. If you are unfamiliar with this cultural era, let me briefly describe the setting. The wedding ceremony would take place in the church sanctuary. Following the service, the wedding party and the guests would walk over to the church fellowship hall. This could be anything from a building finely appointed and decorated on the level of the sanctuary or it could be a metal building normally used as a gym with strategically placed flowers to dress it up for the special occasion. The bride and groom would stand in a prominent place to greet each guest while everyone else enjoyed small sandwiches and other finger foods arranged on a long table in the center of the room. At one end of the table there would be a punch bowl and at the other end would be cake. All the guests would stand around with small plastic plates in hand, talking until it was time for the bride and groom to make their grand exit. Everyone would then line each side of the walkway leading out of the building, and as the couple passed between them, all would throw rice and shout congratulations.

I do not remember anything about the wedding ceremony, who was getting married, or any other detail other than this singular fact, there was a punch fountain at the reception. I was under ten years old and I had never seen a punch fountain before. At all the previous weddings I had attended with my family the punch bowl was attended (or guarded) by one of the ladies of the church. She would dip the ladle and pour a cup of the concoction of fruit juice and Ginger Ale for anyone who wished to have some. No one ever told me there was a limit to how many refills I could have, but I instinctively knew that if I returned too many times, she would, at some point, cut me off. But a punch fountain is different. A punch fountain has a large bowl at its base and another smaller bowl that sits above a column that rises from the center of the large bowl. Flowing from this upper bowl is a constant supply of punch that is circulated by a pump inside of the supporting column. This was a novelty to me, and it captured my attention. Guests could take their cups and hold them beneath the cascading streams of punch and fill their own cups. With the punch fountain, there was no need for an attendant and without an attendant, I was free to refill my cup as often as I pleased.

The punch that was served at the wedding was nice, but I do not have a great affection for it. I do not crave it or have a particular fondness for it. However, my fascination with the novelty of the fountain combined with unrestrained access and the lack of self-control and self-awareness that comes with boyhood created a situation that was ripe for disaster. I was indeed mesmerized by the fountain and titillated by the unrestrained access. I enjoyed filling my cup in the fountain’s streams. As soon as my cup was full, I would commence to drink it quickly so that I could again return to the fountain. This process repeated itself over and over again. All the while I was thrilled with the process and the access. My pleasure and enjoyment did not wane until my little stomach suddenly sounded the alarm in protest to my consumption. It seemed to happen all at once. At one moment, I was happily returning to the fountain to refill my cup when the very next moment, I was sick. I was very sick. I was miserably sick. I could not bear even the thought of tasting another drop of punch. There is a limit to the amount a little boy can drink of fruit juice and Ginger Ale, and I had exceeded it. Everything about the fountain and the punch that flowed from it no longer had any appeal. I quickly exited the fellowship hall and found the nearest restroom and remained there a very long time. Eventually, I returned to the fellowship hall but did not go near the punch fountain. Though the sickness had passed, the lesson of the experience had not.

In almost every area of life, you face limitations. There are activities you cannot do because of physical limitations. There are many things you cannot do or experience because of financial limitations. Some barriers physically limit your free access. Often when you are confronted by these limits or restrictions, you see them as something negative. You think that if only you were free to act without restraints, then you would be happy, able to accomplish your goal, or truly be successful. We tend to see barriers that restrict access as keeping something from us rather than acting as a blessing and a good for us. When our attention is only on what we cannot have or do, it is hard for us to recognize how the barriers and restrictions add to the blessing and enjoyment of what we already have and do. 

God’s grace abounds. God’s provisions are abundant. God’s grace is not only shown in what He says yes to but sometimes even more in what He says no to. God’s provision is not only found in the gifts He gives but also in the limits and restrictions He imposes. So, the next time you are tempted to grumble about what God has kept from you, remember the punch fountain and very sick little boy and give thanks for God's amazing grace.