Swallow Down

My stomach clenched, heaving over the prospect of swallowing down the bread of brokenness.

Emptying the shed blood, covering.

How can I?

I am undeserving.

Yet here it is willingly, offered.

“This is My body , given for you.”

“This is My cup, poured out for you.”

To spurn the bread, the cup, is to spurn Him.

And isn't He all I really want?

Isn't mercy what my heart yearns for?

I can not come if I am perfect. I can only come, seeking grace, when I am in need of it. And I need.

I swallow down, willingly. Past the tears. Past the sorrow over my guilt.

I accept the gift offered, finding Him.