The Restless Labor of Our Hands

Then he told them a parable.
“There was a rich man whose land produced a bountiful harvest.
He asked himself, ‘What shall I do,
for I do not have space to store my harvest?’
And he said, ‘This is what I shall do:
I shall tear down my barns and build larger ones.
There I shall store all my grain and other goods
and I shall say to myself, “Now as for you,
you have so many good things stored up for many years,
rest, eat, drink, be merry!”’
But God said to him,
‘You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you;
and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong?’
Thus will it be for the one who stores up treasure for himself
but is not rich in what matters to God.”
Luke 12:13-21

The restless labor of our hands,
the plotting of our minds,
the ceasless harvest of our lands:
We leave them all behind.

The goods we still are storing up,
the gold we stash away,
are water spilling from the cup,
and not a drop will stay.

But we will lose all we have gained
when moths devour the robes,
the weevils hatch within the grain,
and silver coins corrode.

All that we have will be poured out—
our love, our blood, our breath—
then let our hands be open now,
that nothing hold in death.

Then grind the grain to make a feast;
pour out the wine in pools.
Bring glorious robes for all the least;
pay out the gold in full.

So break and share the daily bread;
let heaven's feast begin!
Why wait 'til we ourselves are dead?
The kingdom usher in!

The rich man counts over his riches. The rich man dies. By Unknown author – The story of the Bible from Genesis to Revelation, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=59928047

O Little Flock

Jesus said to his disciples:
“Do not be afraid any longer, little flock,
for your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom.
Sell your belongings and give alms.
Provide money bags for yourselves that do not wear out,
an inexhaustible treasure in heaven
that no thief can reach nor moth destroy.
For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.
Gird your loins and light your lamps
and be like servants who await their master’s return from a wedding,
ready to open immediately when he comes and knocks.
Blessed are those servants
whom the master finds vigilant on his arrival.”
Luke 12:32-48

To the tune FINLANDIA:

O little flock, the time for fear is over!
The kingdom waits, and even now appears.
Sell what you have, to gain a better treasure,
and give to all, for Christ in them draws near.
As you have giv'n, to you it will be measured:
Hold nothing back, not doubt or pain or tears.

So we shall live as strangers and sojourners:
the world as ours to have, but not to hold.
Though we may grieve, we do not go as mourners;
though we may want, we shall not cling to gold.
Though wand'ring still, we journey ever homeward;
though weary yet, our hearts shall not grow cold.

So may we meet our Savior soon returning,
and be awake to tend the master's needs,
as he did ours to end his long sojourning,
who broke the bread and knelt to wash our feet.
Whate'er the hour, oh, let our lamps be burning
to welcome Christ, and enter heaven's feast!

An etching by Jan Luyken illustrating Luke 13:41-48 in the Bowyer Bible, Bolton, England. By Phillip Medhurst – Photo by Harry Kossuth, FAL, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7550884

And If This Night

But God said to him,
‘You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you;
and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong?’
Thus will it be for all who store up treasure for themselves
but are not rich in what matters to God.”
Luke 12:13-21

And if this night my life should end,
if I should stand before my God,
then all the gifts that filled my hands
will fall untended to the sod.

Oh, let them be as scattered seeds
that fall in death to rise in spring,
a harvest for the endless needs
from shoots that turn the furrows green,

and not as votives for the dead
to moulder buried in the ground
while those my riches could have fed
to their own hungry graves go down.

Give ear, O God, to this my prayer,
as you have given all I have:
What I cannot forever bear
let me not carry to the grave.

Let death not be the only thing
that pries my fingers from bright gold,
and all the good that wealth can bring,
oh, let me only loosely hold.

That when I stand before your throne
I stand unburdened by their weight.
And let it be my soul that grows
when I go planting not too late.

Rembrandt – Parable of the Rich Man – WGA19247 – Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15417407

Enough

Enough for each day, is every day's hunger;
enough for our hunger, the bread God has giv'n.
Enough for that bread, the rain and the thunder
awakening seedlings to rise up and live.

Enough for the seeds, the earth turning over;
enough for that turning, the hand on the plow.
Enough for the hands, the grain that is growing,
the sun in heavens, the goodness of now.

Consider the birds, with nothing to harvest;
consider the flowers in Solomon's robes.
Consider the gifts poured out from the Father,
creation unfolding in wonders untold.

Consider the stars, their worlds without number;
consider the sparrow whose falling is known.
We walk in God's care, among all these wonders:
We're never abandoned and never alone.

Then come lift your hands in praise of the Father,
and come lift your voices, for love of the Son,
and lift up your hearts, the Spirit to honor,
the Trinity praising, whose love is our own.

Field of Lilies – Tiffany Studios, c. 1910 By Daderot. – I took this photo at the Richard H. Driehaus Gallery of Stained Glass, on the Navy Pier, Chicago, Illinois, USA. This artwork is now in the public domain because of its age. There were no prohibitions on photography at the gallery, and no assertions of copyright or any other form of restriction on reproduction., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1297504

O Lord, My Lamp Is Going Out

Jesus said to his disciples:
“Gird your loins and light your lamps
and be like servants who await their master’s return from a wedding,
ready to open immediately when he comes and knocks.
Blessed are those servants
whom the master finds vigilant on his arrival.
Amen, I say to you, he will gird himself,
have them recline at table, and proceed to wait on them.
And should he come in the second or third watch
and find them prepared in this way,
blessed are those servants.”
Luke 12:35-38

O Lord, my lamp is going out
before the buffets of the wind
that wails aloud as thunder shouts
to snuff the guttered light within.

But still the bridegroom does not come
while midnight stretches on and on.
How long, with hands and hearts gone numb,
can we yet stand and wait for dawn?

The storm refuses to abate;
our lights are growing yet more dim,
but still we stand and still we wait
and fight to hold some hope of him.

No ear shall hear above the wind,
but we still lift our voice in song
that our deep darkness shall be hymned
though still it stretches on and on.

Come quickly, then, to tend the flames
when hearts and flasks have all run dry.
Revive the lips that sing your name
while yet the long night passes by.

O Master, do not wait for dawn,
but come—Come now; no more delay!
For in your light the night is gone,
and you, yourself, shall be our day!