Dear Jesus, I can hear you knocking at the door of my heart looking for my hospitality. Like the tax collector Zacchaeus, you want to stay in my house this night.
I am so sorry for keeping you waiting, but my house/soul is so untidy, with all my distractions, not to mention my sins. I gladly open my door to you knowing that in your love you will overlook the mess. You want to talk to me about your Father’s Kingdom, you want to heal me, and you want to feed me with your own flesh and blood.
Lord I am more than a bit overwhelmed, but I have to put aside my unworthiness in the joyful recognition that your love overcomes all things including the defences I put up against you. Just let me be like St Paul, receiving the gift of your word and body, and then passing on your generosity to those I meet.