…My Cup Runneth Over…

IN AN ENDLESS TRADITION OF GOD'S WORD AND THE MIRACULOUS!!!

I have seen Oliver Twist once.
Nay! It must be twice or thrice.
When I find myself take a walk down memory lane, I realize many instances where I’ve been the least deserving of anything unlike hungry Oliver.

Oliver was still able to ask for more.
I had always known, by my actions, my penance was to be erectly poor.
Oliver’s fear crumbled while his belly grumbled for food worth asking for.
My heart knew the truth not to display defiance when shown the door.

If it be that I go hungry or full, I know what I deserve. Sometimes, popularity seems to denote fame and tend to send little spidery feelings of importance down one’s spine. We are consumed with anything media, and idolize, if not purposefully, then subconsciously, the icons paparazzi struggle to proclaim and/or reclaim. I’m sure the lust to be known dwindles when the reason of knowledge is not to praise but to disdain. When many shoulders rise higher in the flashes of camera lights, you might shrink and wish that the floors would swallow no one but you in the ambience of travesty.


Have you ever been in a situation where the exit was sealed?
Have you had your cup stretched out with sorrow-filled?
Do you know how the daily poor feel when they ask for a piece but, in return, get crumbs?
Do you know the heart’s pace of the fearful, when asked to face a crowd, sounding like jungle drums?

At life’s limit, you venture not to ask anymore. Drained of all hope, you stop to watch the favored ones drench themselves in stupor. Withered of all faith, tears come as the wise bask in their fill of knowledge. Robbed of all love, Tis comely to expect the pass of the richest wine, served first to the most blessed, and then to the rest.

Will you approach the table of cups to get served if it was customary that you and I, the chiefs of sinners, partake also? Everyone took a cup. Will you take only one? Did you reach the table at a time when the finest cups were in possession, leaving you with the only rugged, wooden cup? Hands stretch out for cups to be filled with wine; could you barely raise yours?


The cold wind matched in from the silent sea in the distance running a chill down the rich and the poor.
He came in to only put a coat upon you as cover.
He ushered you to His table, like David welcomed the lame son of Jonathan to dine at his table for ever.
You might wonder who it was that paid the price to be your lover.
T’was the same one who anointed you with oil before; how could you forget the Father?
Others may judge and walk away in disgust but His Spirit didn’t just come to hover;
But now resides in you and me; as we delight in the feast before us…I dare say…am the most blessed for my cup runneth over!!!


The prisoner of Christ!!!