Psalm 147

I saunter up to reception,
pushing past the smaller guests.
“One table, please.” It’s an order
that I’ve framed as a request.

It’s absurd because I’m supposed
to be taking orders and
waiting tables today – not here
acting like a customer.

How did I get exclusive rights
to God’s favor? Is it my

affiliations that got him
to side so heavily with

me? Do I have the lion’s share
of blessings, or do I have

the Lion of Judah as my
mediator and counsel?

Do I hope in his benefits
or benefit from his hope?

Psalm 147

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