The altar keeps the gift; the going is yours.

You have come to the altar with a gift in your hands, and the memory arrives like a hand on your shoulder: the brother, the offense that still sits between you. You want to set the gift down and pray past it, to make the offering clean. But the memory is not an interruption; it is the truth that has been waiting to surface.

Jesus does not tell you to carry the grievance to the altar. He tells you to leave the gift there, on the altar stone, and go. Picture it: the gift resting alone, your back turning, the road to the brother, the hard words, the return. The offering can wait; the going cannot. Jesus says the altar is not a hiding place. The Father calls you out of the sanctuary and toward the brother, because the gift is not the first offering; the going is. And under the whole command stands the cross: Christ left the altar of heaven and came all the way to us, so your walk to your brother is a small walking in that going. The altar can wait for your gift; your brother cannot wait for your going.