canticle 107

your grace is as close
as every breath we take;
your love clings tighter
to us than any velcro fastener;
and so we tell everyone
of how you reach out
and gather us from
every edge to which we wander.

some arrive at borders,
weary and broken,
hungering for hope
more than any food,
thirsting for just a sip
of peace and freedom.
they cried to God, who
welcomes them with open arms,
setting a place at the table.
they compose songs of joy
to be sung in the evenings,
with stomachs full and
souls overflowing with laughter.

some huddle in shadowed doorways,
sleeping rough in parks,
listening to the well-off
passing them by on the way home
from fancy restaurants and boutique bars.
they had worked hard all their lives,
but made redundant, jobs converted to tech,
they lost everything, especially dignity.
they cried to God, who
brings light into the dimmest corners,
who shatters despair with hope,
who puts them to work sharing grace
with those who think they have enough,
singing of the One who has never used
the word hopeless about anyone.

some became addicted to opioids,
offered without thought by those
seeking to make money off another's pain;
some heard the dreaded words
'the cancer has come back,'
while others lie awake gripped
by the strong arm of depression.
they cried to God, who
offers the love's brokenness
and wraps them in bands of compassion
soaked with the tears of grace,
and they run to share with others
of the One who will shelter them
in welcome and kindness.

some are buffeted by angry words,
tossed about on the seas of bitterness,
set adrift by those filled with hate.
they knew the love of God,
the hopes God has for all,
but the waves of vilification and judgment
tossed them far into the air,
and sank them into rejection's depths.
finally, when it seemed even hope
had abandoned all hope,
they cried to God, who
told the tweeters to be still,
and the trolls to shut their mouths.
in the quiet of God's heart,
they found their true home,
joining their sisters and brothers,
all their mentors and models
in shouts of acclamation.

for there is One who
will turn floods of vitriol
into dusty dry riverbanks,
who will let the hate's wine
become bitter vinegar poured
into the cups of those who
turn their backs on others.

and he turns food deserts
into farmers markets for the indigent,
fixes the broken pipes so grace
flows without ceasing;
he teaches the hungry the best recipes,
and settles them into
neighborhoods of hope,
where they plant community gardens,
to put fresh produce
on each other's porches,
blessing others as deeply
as God has blessed them.

but those who think they are
holier than others are put in their place,
sent into time-out until they relearn
the ABCs of love's language.
and the vulnerable?
they become God's trusted council,
grace's children applauding with joy,
while the despots lose their voices.

if we have any smarts at all,
we will pay more attention
to God's faithful love.

(c) 2019 Thom M. Shuman