The Table

There’s nothing as indomonitable
As the calm of the soul.
A steadiness that resists
Union with oblivion
A warm seat
In the face of a blizzard.
There’s a promised table
That is set
In the midst of enemies
And on it sits a feast
Of treasures that defy our poverty
And delights that contradict our misery
You see, the goodness of God
Need not be warmed up to
Cleaned up for
Or upgraded into.
He is good
And that is simply enough.
At His table
He will provide all
That we have ever needed
Even when there’s a cocophany of voices
Sceeaming that we don’t deserve it.
The menu is set
The invitation is open.
He will be our Provider, Our Shepherd
In spite of our enemies
All around
Or adversaries within.

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