Most days I feel small.
Compare me with what You will
And I come up short,
One more year and maybe I can ride the big rides,
Brave the big things,
But I’m just a kid with a courage to match my stature
And a small way of thinking.
In fact, I’m quite sure
I could blame it on others,
And there’s blame to go around.
Sure, some of it comes from my grasping for crowns,
From naming and claiming
That which isn’t mine to take.
And some comes from all the stupid choices I make.
But the rest, a large part,
Divested of others and me,
Is just how the world works,
Who I am, and what I’m meant to be.
Smallness is the gift to the small
Of an essence that should be familiar to all,
Of a greatness yet compact until God acts.
It will grow into shelter,
And spread through the dough,
And this isn’t feeling, but fact.
We, tiny saints, carry within us
The body and blood of His holy city.
And our smallness as seeds is a promise, not a pity.
This is so much bigger than all of us combined:
From a King once microscopic
Comes a Kingdom divine.
Then Jesus asked, “What is the kingdom of God like? What shall I compare it to? It is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his garden. It grew and became a tree, and the birds perched in its branches.” Again he asked, “What shall I compare the kingdom of God to? It is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into about sixty pounds of flour until it worked all through the dough.” Luke 13:18-21
(Liturgical poetry during ordinary time after Pentecost is inspired by the parables of Luke.)
Words for the Church: Ordinary Time
torrents of my making
mine to forgive
now does the earth
gold dust prayer
eat the song