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