You Are Invited

“You are invited!” He said.
The punctured reply – “No thanks, I have better offers.”
          The housing market is ripe
                    and I’ve got to get ahead.
          Business is unceasing
                   and the ambitious never sleep.
          I’m in a new relationship
                   and I’d rather be with them.

“But I turned tables for you!” He prompted.
The hasty response – “Someday I’ll return the favour.”
           When I elbow my way to honour
                    or climb my way to the top,
           then I’ll be seated by you
                    at the time of kingdom come.
           When the resurrection happens
                    I’ll already be propped up.

“Have you not heard the story?” He asked.
Addressing me once more – “It’s a story about you.”
           To my meal of bread and wine
                   the guests sent apologies.
           To my table of blessing
                  those invited didn’t show.
           To a life poured out for others
                  those called on opted out.

“My house was built to be filled!”
So invite all the misfits
          and messups
                    and people told they matter least.

“Blessing came to be given away!”
So include the penniless
          and parentless
                    and people in pain.

“This meal was to be enjoyed!”
So compel the bad kids
          and blacklisted
                   and those who are burdensome.

“There is always room at my table!”
So send for the impure
          and improbable
                    and grossly improper.

“My invite is for the soft-hearted!”
So bring all who are unseen
          and those can’t see
                    and the ones ‘uninvitable.’

“My house is open! The table is set!” He declared.
The reminder followed – “I don’t want returned favours.”
          Let me lavish you in worthiness.
                    I can address your hopelessness.
          You are invited as you are.
                   You won’t leave as you were.
          My etiquette is such,
                   I just want you to come.

“Sit down and eat up! I am your friend.”
The eager reply – “Yes please! We’re coming!”
          And when there is still room at this meal of mine,
                    find the least of these
          in the lowly place And pull up their chair
                   into the honoured space.

Poem written by Lizzie and Joel serving in South Asia

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