I will break bread with you,

I broke bread with you,

for that is the way of grace,

though I suspect you would deny me it

were the tables turned,

and I wonder if you would even offer me crumbs?

+

Your words cut me and bruised me.

your insistence on your own righteousness,

your Bible-believing ways,

your condemnation of my very being.

My reading of the Bible is somewhat different to yours,

so, why did you come to the table?

+

Why did you choose to receive from a woman,

a queer woman? ( you may be unaware of that last part).

Was it an openness to grace, to the offer of

an open table where none are excluded?

Was it the reminder that the Pharisees ticked many boxes

but were hard hearted and mean?

Or was it habit,

you came because you have always come?

+

Know this though,

your words wounded,

your judgement bruised,

your righteousness condemned me…

+

I hope I chose to take the towel,

for I know who I am,

and whose I am,

then I broke bread and offered it,

and you received…

+

still I was shaking