You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
It was when you asked me to help,
O God, that I truly understood ...
or at least understood
in the way that you asked me
to understand.
You handed a chalice to me
from the table you prepared
and whispered, "For all."
I gulped. "Oh God... really?
For all?"
You whispered again,
"Look into their eyes,
offer to them what I have prepared,
Some might be your enemies,
but none are mine."
And so I stood,
at the end of an aisle,
with chalice in hand
and wept at the thoughts
of my enemies welcomed
to the table
that was prepared for me
in such a generous way.
The table was not mine;
the guest list was not mine;
the chalice never ran dry ...
nor did the grace and mercy.
Once again, I heard,
"Do this in remembrance ...
and remember,
these are not my enemies."
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies,
and then you say, "All sit ... together."
And still the chalice never runs dry
for those around the table -
not even for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment