The Table

A poem for pilgrims in polarized times.

A visitor
arriving from some place
where everything was different
and now nothing feels the same.
Welcomed on Sunday by
the Table and
your warm smile.
Only to search for
your profile - what’s this?
Posts insulting the dignity
of image bearers;
a sense of humor resembling
not the citizens of the Kingdom but
the people of Babylon.
A prophetic people ought to be known
by their sweetness, like honey.
Not by stings of anger.
Perplexed,
“If this is who they really are,
I cannot belong here.”
Tell me,

Was it worth it?

A neighbor
blessed by common grace,
not yet by saving grace.
They see your 75-cent
front yard cardboard sign.
A statement that
seems so foreign to
memories of Sunday School.
Where the chills of
that old church basement
were warmed by felt boards
of amazing grace.
Stories of a tender shepherd
who loved little lambs;
who was known for feasting at a table
with sinners and tax collectors.
The scandal of a skandalon;
a stumbling block where
there should have been
a sycamore tree.
Tell me,

Was it worth it?

A friend
for years known by
sweet affection,
sharing burdens, and
coffee at a table.
Now distant.
Torn?
By painful words that
never should have been said.
Do we believe the same gospel?
Ambassadors of reconciliation!
Or have golden statues,
fashioned by our deepest insecurities,
been placed on our heart’s altar?
The place we once said was
reserved for our King
has become a marketplace for idols.
Eternal friendship now broken.
It was sold to the lowest bidder
for bondage.
Tell me,

Was it worth it?

A table
with mismatched seats and highchairs.
Where budgets are sacrificed
to provide a better meal for strangers
than you make for yourself.
Offerings of leftover pantry chips
past their expiration.
A foretaste of seeds sown.
Am I awkward?
Will they think I’m stupid?
It’s safe here in this
crowded, uncomfortable space.
Sacred space.
Where hearts knit together
by the One who can turn
eternal enemies into visitors,
visitors into neighbors,
neighbors into friends.
The feast to come can begin now
at a table.
I’m telling you,

It is worth it.