By Dory George
O Lord,
You invite me in,
but I scorn Your welcome.
You offer milk and honey,
but I want heathen food.
You desire to wash my feet
but I walk away.
You hold out a beautiful robe,
but I pull my dross closer.
You call me Your child,
but I answer not.
O Lord,
Open my heart,
so I may commune with You.
Open my mouth,
so I may taste Your goodness.
Open my steps,
so I may follow You.
Open my wardrobe,
so I may see Your cleansing remove my filth.
Open my ears,
so I may listen to You, my Father.
For it shall be well.
Amen.
As a child, our family dinners combined the hospitality of my mother with the devotional readings of my father. My folks modeled a grace-full table whether dining on our own or through fellowship in our home. In this poem, the Lord issues an invitation of warmth and welcome, to give us substance and sweetness, cleansing and closeness. You might say this is my heart’s unwitting reflection of a favorite crucifixion hymn: “How Sweet and Awesome”, in which Isaac Watts writes, “Lord, why was I a guest?” and “’Twas the same love that spread the feast that sweetly drew me in …”
About the Author
Dory George hails from seven states, including the plains of Oklahoma, where imagination begins and roads never end.
Poetry in childhood was as natural as a homemade bedspread covering surreptitious light while reading underneath, with Robert Frost a frequent favorite. In memories of harmonizing around Mom’s piano or fishing for adventure with Dad or playing in snow with a sibling, the cadence of family togetherness lingers in the prayerful request of Psalm 90:12, as the author petitions the Lord: “So teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”