The Bread of Life

The piece of warmed up sea foam, the glob of plaster still in my mouth, I reflect on the eloquent message the now soggy bit of French bread  speaks to the rest of my life.

The little details I leave out as I rush through my distracted days.

Those pesky hows as I am busying myself with the seemingly important whats.

The shreds of love that get slaughtered under the dagger of truth.

The voice of truth that gets suffocated under the blanket of ‘love’.

When mercy is severed from justice, and justice from mercy.

My tendency to skim over the ‘recipe’, since I already know what it says...

…

When the Bread of Life came down, when the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, His presence among us was like no other.  

The one and only Son.

The One and only, who came from the Father…

The Bread and the Baker...

Full of grace and truth.

Full of grace.

Full of truth. 

Nothing was sacrificed.  Nothing skimmed over and skipped in the rush to 'get things done'. The Whats and the Hows. The Mercies and the Justice. .

The full cup of love.  The full measure of truth.

The Word written… the Word spoken was – is – the Word lived out. In its fullness. 

And the taste?… 

Mmm... oh, so good!