40 min

Ruth 2: Providence and Participation Christ City Church, Washington DC

    • Christianity

Have you ever wondered how God provides? Pastor Justin Fung talks about how Ruth 2 shows us that God provides, in large part through people of compassion and commitment, who care for one another and the common good. Or to put it more personally: no matter our situation, we can be—we are called to be, we are needed as—instruments of God’s blessing, offering healing and grace to others. [Ruth 2]

Creative Response

To Glean | After Ruth 2

By Amy Sawyer

To gather what is ungathered.

Scattered scraps left

for the penniless, homeless, manless,

society’s less-thans, leftovers,

to reap and not to sew,

to walk along the edges

where the plow won’t go.

Her dirty hands

comb through barley fields,

a grain so rhythmically stitched

in it you can see

all Eden’s ideals.

Her thumb strums

the husk’s rough grooves

as creation’s perfection

unravels in her palms.

We know that bit about dogs and scraps

and the master’s table,

we can reframe and explain,

seeking dignity for “dogs”,

but women know.

Women know

how a vinegar wine flows

in our bloodlines, plow lines,

food lines, picket lines.

The bread we need now

comes too late.

Our blood and bodies given,

our names unsung,

we hold onto your story,

named among the nameless,

seed sown in us,

Your blood in His.

For she sings, we sing:

batter my heart, harvest me, thresh me,

glean me from what remains,

for we remain to be

saved on a grape and grain.

Have you ever wondered how God provides? Pastor Justin Fung talks about how Ruth 2 shows us that God provides, in large part through people of compassion and commitment, who care for one another and the common good. Or to put it more personally: no matter our situation, we can be—we are called to be, we are needed as—instruments of God’s blessing, offering healing and grace to others. [Ruth 2]

Creative Response

To Glean | After Ruth 2

By Amy Sawyer

To gather what is ungathered.

Scattered scraps left

for the penniless, homeless, manless,

society’s less-thans, leftovers,

to reap and not to sew,

to walk along the edges

where the plow won’t go.

Her dirty hands

comb through barley fields,

a grain so rhythmically stitched

in it you can see

all Eden’s ideals.

Her thumb strums

the husk’s rough grooves

as creation’s perfection

unravels in her palms.

We know that bit about dogs and scraps

and the master’s table,

we can reframe and explain,

seeking dignity for “dogs”,

but women know.

Women know

how a vinegar wine flows

in our bloodlines, plow lines,

food lines, picket lines.

The bread we need now

comes too late.

Our blood and bodies given,

our names unsung,

we hold onto your story,

named among the nameless,

seed sown in us,

Your blood in His.

For she sings, we sing:

batter my heart, harvest me, thresh me,

glean me from what remains,

for we remain to be

saved on a grape and grain.

40 min