Dinner Guests

By Vernie Lynn DeMille

 

Christ would sup with a Democrat

And discuss the woes and injustices of men,

Listen intently to each complaint of society’s ill,

Clap His hand on his shoulder, 

Bid him peace

And then…

 

 

Christ would dine with a Republican

And discuss the evil of those

Who force others to bow to their will, 

freedom lost with no care for who labors for naught,

Put His arm ‘round her shoulders, 

Bid her peace

And still…

 

 

Christ would break bread with a Jew,

Secular Humanist, Buddhist, Sikh, Shintoist,

Muslim, Christian, Agnostic, Atheist, Hindu,

Pagan, Baha’i, Indigenous, and

Regardless the meal,

Know who each of them are, and

Be at peace with His host.

 

 

Christ would weep with the Socialist

For the poor and the weak, who hunger for comfort,

Mourn with the Communist for men who won’t

Of their own will serve others,

Give comfort for distress,

And then…

 

 

Christ would listen patiently to

The Facist, the dictator, the bigot, 

The hurt filled who hate

Those who will not obey 

And just do what they say;

And could empathize that 

Choice, free will, and agency

Are too often misused.

He would understand

That those entrusted with freedom

Do not often stay

On the higher way.

 

 

Christ would hear it all 

Without shock or surprise, 

Would not despise or condemn

All that pain, misery, 

Frustration, and fear

Of each other, and a 

Future that remains 

All too unclear.

Because…

 

He proved in His walk,

His daily travel amongst

The downtrodden,

The despised, 

The discouraged, 

And even the despotic,

That he would love. 

He would listen, 

He would teach, 

He would serve, 

And forgive

Until His last breath, 

Those whom He came to save

From the death they delivered 

Him to. 

 

 

And reason bids me obey

The law-giving Jehovah,

With the exact obedience

Of the law-living Christ.

Expecting progression of myself

And offering compassion

To all else, 

Regardless 

Of their stature or their sin. 

Faith calls me to courage, 

Knowing God is good, 

But He is not safe

By the standards of men.  

He promises no endless,

Mortal life

As payment for

Penitence.  

 

 

I read His words,

Cast my eyes on the path

He walked with my wounds,

And understand,

With deeper vision

From the darkness 

Of the waiting grave,

I cannot extricate myself from,

That His burden 

Is love. 

 

The weight of what I bear

Feels ponderous by comparison, 

And all ungodly.  

This hate

For what hates;

This abhorrence 

For what abhors;

This despising

For what despises;

This sin in me

Against those who sin. 

 

 

Head bowed 

In acceptance

Of how I fall,  of how I fail, 

I feel His hands

Upon my shoulders, 

His fingers on my cheeks, 

And hear Him say, 

“Come, and dine.”

 

 

For Christ would nourish 

The fallen.

No hate in His heart

For the one he carried

Through the tears and blood

Of a lonely garden,

With the wounds and loneliness

Of a cross,

Bruised by the stones

Of His sepulcher 

Hurled at and by us,

To the feet of His father.

 

Christ would look deep

Into the recesses of my soul, 

To the intent,  

To the understanding,

To the errors,

To the dreams destroyed, 

To the heart shattered, 

And see me as I am. 

And He, with compassion 

I cannot comprehend, 

Would bid me to drink deep

Of the water which washes away

The stain of disappointment

And the bitter taste of defeat.  

He, knowing how I hunger

In endless want, 

Would bid me eat, 

With no price, 

Until my soul is filled with light. 

 

 

My yearning touches

The furthest edge of that peace.

My heart feels

The smallest brush with that joy.

And I find it easier

To sit down to a meal, 

Here in this battlefield 

The earth has become, 

Across the table from those

Who bear the wounds

And carry the weapons 

Of war.

I find it easier to see past

The dust of this world

To who we will be,

To who we truly are, 

In the kingdom,

And at the table, 

Of God. 

 

September 16, 2020