The room was soaked with the warm aroma of baked bread. He raised the plate towards her. "Have some bread. It's fresh from the oven."
"No thanks," she replied.
"Yeah. It looks moldy."
"What? Nope. Not moldy. I just made it."
She shrugged. "It's probably dry."
"I've made it before, lots of times. I'm sure it is moist and delicious."
"Well, poisoned then."
His eyebrows shot up. "Poisoned? Why would I poison you? Here, I'll take a bite myself."
She watched him eat, unimpressed.
"It's really good." He spoke through a full mouth.
"You look gross when you eat it."
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Maybe. But that's not the bread's fault."
She examined the bread hungrily. Her eyes flicked between gift and giver. "Well, all right," she said. "I'll try one bite."
A slow smile spread across her face as she chewed. A warmth softened her eyes as she swallowed. Her body relaxed as she reached for another piece.
"Thank you," she whispered. "It's wonderful."
And so the Christian has the peculiar job of offering the treasures of God to a world reluctant to receive them.