Gathering - Luke 6 Part 1

We come with hands that hunger knows,
with hearts that measure bread;
we bring the words our mouths have made
and all we leave unsaid.

The Sabbath grain still bends in light,
the hungry still draw near;
what we have named as holy meets
the human need already here.

A hand held close against the side
comes slowly into sight;
the fingers open into strength,
while anger hardens tight.

One hand unfolds beneath the light,
one heart grows hard with blame;
the room holds healing in its midst
and fury just the same.

On level ground we gather now,
the emptied and the filled;
the tables weighted down with bread,
the waiting bowls held still.

The poor stand near the prosperous,
the hungry near the fed;
the ones whose laughter fills the room,
the ones who mourn their dead.

God’s kingdom leans toward empty hands;
the hungry shall be filled;
the weeping shall yet laugh for joy,
their mourning shall be stilled.

The hated and the cast outside,
whose names are spoken wrong,
stand with the prophets scorned before
and find they still belong.

Yet wealth can wall the heart within,
and fullness cannot stay;
the feast may fade, the laughter break,
and praise itself betray.

On level ground no purse can prove
the measure of a soul;
the empty bowl, the laden board
stand under one same call.