communion table

communionTonight, my dinner conversation with Krista centered around the transformation that God is so patiently performing in each of our lives. I have been reminded a lot lately of the vacuum in my heart in the places where mercy, trust, and humility should be.

I shared an incident from the day before when someone turned in front of me after looking directly at me from their spot at the stop sign. I was angry enough to tell PT Cruiser how I felt as I passed. I won’t go into detail regarding the “one point” sermon I gave him, but suffice it to say that he got the message.

Krista shared her own stories, and they were enough to remind me that I am part of a larger human struggle to resemble more closely the One in whose image we were made. That struggle is always connected to our pride or unbelief, as Krista is learning in a Bible study she’s involved with.

Pride gives me the power to place myself as judge over PT Cruiser and his pals. I can also play jury and executioner if I so desire. Unfortunately, as I climb onto the judicial bench to proclaim guilt, I have forgotten that when my name appears on God’s daily docket, I am treated with great mercy. The foolishness of my harshness toward the mistakes of others is now painfully obvious.

Krista and I have wine with dinner a couple of times a week, and we always toast to something. Sometimes it’s to a memory, a friend, or a special place. Tonight we toasted to the need for more mercy.

As the wine hit my palette, our dinner table became a communion table. I was being cleansed, again.

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