I’ve been thinking a lot about our faith communities, and who’s in and who’s not. I had to step up to a mic last week and say some hard things to my own people. I got through it, but just barely. I know a lot of people doing courageous things, and they are weary. Sometimes taking your place at the table is an act of faith, especially when the seated people don’t want you there (for whatever reason).
This morning, I jotted this down as a meditation to make myself a little braver. Hoping you’ll remember, you, too, have been invited.
You can stop looking so surprised
to see me in your house.
I am not crashing your party,
I was invited by the Lord of hosts.
See, I’ve been here all this time—
under your tables,
cherishing your leftovers,
while you helped yourselves to this feast,
getting drunk with power.
But I’m up off the floor now,
and too hungry for crumbs.
I’ll take my seat next to you, brothers,
because y’all know as well as I do,
He broke that bread for me, too.
PS-If you see me at a table, you can come sit by me. I can scootch. Plenty of room here.