The Table of the King

How rich we feel,

How glad we are

To cover if they lack.

So whether they

Need housed or fed,

We fight to have their back.

—//—

My heart is full,

Our fridge is not.

Our door’s still open wide.

For where He is,

There is enough.

My Jesus, He provides.

—//—

The floors have dirt,

The dishes pile,

More company arrives.

He has made

Our house a home

For any to reside.

—//—

We clear a space,

In house and heart,

And welcome loved ones, new.

The broken, bruised,

And far from peace,

You bring them here for You.

—//—

We’ll do our best,

To love them well,

Remind them You’re not far.

To heal the wounds,

One at a time,

Imperfect, yet, we are.

—//—

“Inadequate”

Has been my name

For my entire life.

But “Freedom, Wholeness,

By His Grace”:

Our anthem til we die.

—//—

A Table with

A piece of bread.

A cup of just one drop.

For from the King

The crumbs, they are

Indeed, enough! A lot!

—//—

How rich, my God,

How glad He is

To cover where we lack.

So whether we

need housed or fed,

Our Father has our back.