The Champion

I met a man, the most incredible man, who must remain nameless for now. I met him at table breaking bread together. I didn't know him, but was drawn to him like metal is attracted to the magnet, or the other way around. I really knew nothing about this fellow. I had never met him before. He spoke to me with a Spanish accent and was obviously of Hispanic origin. Since I don't have his permission, I will only tell you that in Spanish his name means "The Champion." He told me something very interesting, however. A true champion is not someone who always wins or never gets knocked down. Rather, he said, "a real champion is the one who gets back up after being knocked down." Turns out, this man has been in prison twice. His father had murdered his mother. He had been in gangs, wandered around as one without any hope and lacked purpose in life. Somewhere along the line he discovered Christ and his grace and mercy. I instantly fell in love with "The Champion," who by the way had also been a prize fighter. I don't know exactly what first drew me to him, but none-the-less we are forever friends although our backgrounds are vastly different.

Why do I share this story with you? It is because it was on the road to Emmaus that two men, two disciples, met up with the risen Christ, but failed to recognize him. They walked and they talked, but had no clue they were walking with the Lord. It was a considerable distance from Jerusalem to Emmaus and so when it got late they ask this stranger to come in and eat with them. It was when they were at the table and the bread was broken that they realized this was the Messiah, the Christ, Jesus of Nazareth. I would suggest that through the breaking of bread, the sharing of a meal, we truly get to know another. When we are at table together we discover the worth, the value, the uniqueness, the beauty and the Christ in those at the table with us. I remember Sunday dinners (at noon but it was such a feast we called it dinner) at my fraternal grandmothers. It just went without saying that every Sunday at noon the entire family would gather around grandma's table for a feast. Usually fried chicken, round steak or roast beef, fried potatoes, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn, etc., etc. filled the table. Everyone, young and old, three generations would eat until we couldn't move. But more than that, we had family conversations around that table. That's where we learned all that had happened to each other during the previous week. Being a teen, I am sure I only told part of the happenings, but I listened intently to my parents and grandparents. I found something valuable at that table. I found my identity as a member of the family. Friends, it is when you sit at the table with others and invite the stranger on the Emmaus Road to eat with you that you find your identity as a child of God and as a brother or sister to others at the table.

My grandmother's table was open to anyone, anytime. She used to run a cafe, called the Victory. It was started at the onset of WWII. Growing up I saw her go the the cafe at 4 a.m. to bake pies and cinnamon rolls. Then I watched her give more away than she ever charged for. The police, firemen, etc. never had to buy a roll or coffee. I saw her fix chili and sandwiches for the firemen after a fire......never charging for that meal. I saw her fix sandwiches for Rodney and others who were poor, down on their luck or just needed a homemade meal. I saw her deny herself to help others, yet she always had more than enough. I am not telling you this to glorify my grandmother, although to me she was a saint, but to make a point. The point is that Jesus invites everyone to his table. Not just the rich and powerful, but the poor, the lame, the leper, the criminal, the heathen. He wants to break bread with us and reveal himself as our Savior.

He also wants us to do likewise. He wants us to invite the outsider to our table. He wants us to take time to know that outsider, what their hurts, their fears, their frustrations and their joys are. He wants us to invest ourselves in other people and that's true discipleship. Remember, in the breaking of bread you will discover the Christ in the the stranger.

God Bless You and God Bless America!