The Host


Out on the horizon, you can pick it out quite easily. The land all around it is that familiar reds, browns, yellows, and yellowish-browns of the colour of sand. Yet, what you see is dramatically black and obvious. No attempts at hiding here.

As you move closer, you can see people milling about the Black Object. They are busy with the workings of the group, primarily seeing to animals, or if not to animals, then to staying out of the sun.

It is the tent.

You walk up. It is easily in triple digits, temperature-wise (around 40 for you Centigrade fans). You can see the blessed shade in front of you. You want it.

Something stirs within the shade. It is a man. He appears to be somewhere between 65-infinity. His skin is dark, deeply creased and yet timeless. His face says, ‘I have seen much and know more. I am full of wisdom and knowledge.’

It is the Host.

He invites you in. You step into the blessed shade and find a place to sit. The Host proceeds to rummage around in an old bag, coming up with green-coffee beans. He begins the roasting process, stirring them slowly in his iron pan. It gives off the familiar odour of baking bread.

The host says little, other than to members of his household. They see to our needs and we’ve no need to ask for anything.

The roasting is finished. Now he pours the beans into a large, brass mortar and begins to grind them with his pestle. Periodically, he pauses in his grinding to rap the mortar with the pestle, causing it to ring out. These are peels of announcement: I am hosting.

He then commences to brew the coffee, mixing in cardamon as well, sending exotics smells into the atmosphere. It is like the burning of incense…

Looking up, you see the pinpricks of sunlight that push their way through the goat hair tent. One can almost imagine that it is the night sky you see; myriads of stars shimmering overhead.

The Host and his tent. This is refuge in the desert. The host provides for all your needs, without your needing to ask. He provides for your protection: you and all that is yours. You are safe, provided for. The Host brings out a feast, more food than you can possibly eat. Mountains of food. Costly. He does not pry into your business either. He is hosting. And perhaps, he can already read you, having read people for perhaps a millennia, who can tell?

The Host. He calls to mind Abraham, shepherding his Visitors into the shade, and running ’round to get milk, bread and meat.

The Host. He calls to mind another Host.

‘It is he who sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers;
who stretches out the heavens like a curtain, and spreads them like a tent to live in’ (Is. 40.22).

The Living One is The Host. The universe is his tent. He brings you in and offers you shelter, provision, protection. He sacrifices the most Precious for your needs: shelter and protection from sin and death. He then feeds you with the finest Bread of Heaven and gives you to drink from the Cup of Joy and Salvation.

And you hear the faint echo, ‘This is my body…’This is my blood…’

He is The True Host.


‘Almighty God, we thank you for feeding us with the Body and Blood of your son, Jesus the Christ…’


~ by eikonministries on August 5, 2012.

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