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 and lives in Tennessee, where she attended Covenant College and majored in English. Covenant’s 1996 Thorn literary magazine published two of her poems about ballroom dancing (p. 16, p. 19). When she is not waxing poetic, she enjoys gardening, choral singing, reading mysteries, hosting friends for tea, and being involved in women’s ministry. (Yes, she also loves the Oxford comma.) A favorite “stranded on a desert island” recommendation is Living a Beautiful Life, by Alexandra Stoddard, who promotes enjoying and beautifying all of life, rather than just the five percent comprised of special events.