Come to the table. Come, sit at His feet.
Come if you’re able, come if you’re meek.
Come if you’re broken, come if you’re lost.
Come, come touch the heavenly cloth
Of His robe,
And feel Him breathe into your soul –
All your discarded shards
It’s not glue that binds shards together,
Grace for the humble,
Grace for the race
You thought you had lost,
Grace for the weary and scrap-heap tossed.
His yoke is easy and His burden is light,
His words are joy and His love a delight,
You won’t find Him in comfort
Or in success,
You’ll find Him when you’re sure you’re the last to be blessed.
He was there in your past, He’s here in the mess,
Come join the raggedy-taggledy fest!
Come to the table. Come, sit at His feet,
And learn from the Master the Way of the Least.
~ Sandyfaithking, 2016
I think it’s a bit too close to doggerel for my liking, but sometimes you have to write and be done with it, I reckon. This poem was inspired by these words from Laura Martin’s book ‘Positively Powerless’:
Isaiah 57:15 states:
For this is what the high and exalted one says – He who lives forever, whose name is holy, “I live in a high and holy place, but also with the one who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite.”
It almost seems a contradiction: God dwells in a high and holy place, but He also dwells with the contrite and lowly. It is a startling contrast: we get close to God by realising how far we are from Him… Jesus taught similar principles… The ‘blessed’ are those who are poor in spirit, mournful and meek – those who realise they come to the spiritual table with nothing to offer.
Highlighting is my own, not Laura’s. You can read more intelligent, interesting insights over at Laura’s blog: lightenough.WordPress.com