Seed Time For Harvest

Pushing people out of ditches is all well and good
Long as people see beyond, so end is understood;
Freed-up people in the market don't fit in with grace –
Social working shoehorns people to a quiet place.

But this isn't social working (in its many forms)
Real pushing out of ditches goes beyond the norms;
No one likes it when we grow up, rise to meet the day –
Mediocre is the target – go beyond, we pay.

When I find that church won't do it (can't or won't, who cares?)
So then people wonder ’round to see what's all out there;
Once or twice I understand, but that's not what I see –
Something's missing when the church does not it's livestock feed.

I don't mind it (when encountered) – hunger on the hills;
That's the point – salt, light, and leaven for all boys and girls;
But when sheep can't get their feed and water in the bin,
Then we've got a problem, flagging just the state we are in.

Churches take their flavour from the cultures of their flocks;
As they help mature them up to many kinds of stocks –
Not turn chickens into ducklings, donkeys into sheep,
Bringing rather each to fullness, each with different beat.

“Apostolic” crosses borders keying out the lock
Pastors use to free their people, liberate their walk;
Freed-up people do not fit in any kind of box –
Labelled Saints, or Prophets, Angels – most of them get shot.

So I know my work's subversive to the status quo;
Not just me but anyone who claims the Lord to know;
I get miffed when I find folks out here on lonely hill
Hungry, lost, who should be fed at home – but no one will.

Yet the church won't listen to me – “Just some kind of flake”
Which I am, of course, but why of food can't they partake?
Like my starving Scottish kin who’d not their corn imbibe –
“Pig-food” label's all it takes for folks to not survive.

Okay, fine, I'm out of culture, not from Aryan race;
Try to take my cues from Scripture, grow up in my place;
Setting people free to grow up, be who God designed;
Mostly working with the folks their cultures left behind.

They're the ones who value freedom, relish each the chance
To move forward, enter life, without a backward glance;
Those who've “made it” in each culture so contented are,
Often fail to see beyond their comfort very far.

So I clean the seed for planting, ready for the field –
Thirty, sixty, hundred-fold each hopefully will yield;
Not just salt, and light, and leaven – seed-time is the pix
Jesus gave of Kingdom coming – how to cultures fix.

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