Each week, the people of The Painted Door gather around the table of Jesus to hear Gospel proclamation, join in Gospel song and foster Gospel community. As part of that gathering, we engage in reading together a confession of our sin and God's grace.
You empty the sea to rescue your people
and here we complain of how thirsty we are.
You bring water from stone with the crack of a staff
but we're starving and we need some food right away.
You rain down the angels' own bread for our hunger
but the meat back in Egypt seemed better somehow.
The rich and hardy feast you set for us is far to much for our weak palettes.
Forgive us our appetites, Lord. We crave bitter and bland, even garbage and poison.
Like solitude, leisure, self-pity, esteem, one more laugh,
one more game, flirting eyes, peace at home.
Lingering glances, self-doubt, being right, capacity, safety, control, independence.
But your table is Life and Laboring Love, your breed is your very own self.
Served in excruciating Joy, you spared no expense.
Grow our stomachs, Lord, for supper is at hand, and we shall feast for a very long time indeed.