In the dust of Galilee, a table is set,
Not with silver or gold, but with grace unmerited.
The Son of Man reclines, His eyes alight
With love that pierces the soul’s darkest night.
Around Him gather the outcasts, the scorned,
Sinners and tax collectors, their hearts forlorn.
Yet He breaks bread with them, pours out the wine,
Not to affirm their state, but to offer life divine.
For His presence is not mere tolerance,
Nor His company a nod to social acceptance.
Each morsel shared is an invitation to change,
Each cup a call to a life rearranged.
“Come,” He whispers, “and die to yourself.
Leave behind your old ways, your worldly wealth.
For I offer a feast of righteousness and peace,
Where your true identity will find release.”
In His gaze, they see not condemnation,
But a mirror reflecting holy transformation.
For the Master calls not to remain the same,
But to rise, renewed, in His mighty name.
O soul, will you not heed this call?
To sit at His table, to give Him your all?
For Christ’s love is not passive, but active and true,
Calling forth the image of God anew in you.
Let us then approach His table with reverence,
Not seeking affirmation, but holy severance
From all that binds us to our former ways,
And embrace the new life for which He paid.
For in Christ, we are neither Jew nor Greek,
Neither sinner nor saint, but His masterpiece.
Transformed by love, renewed by grace,
Forever changed by His embrace.
