“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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