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We’re Just a Pile of Change

They’re no different from me.

They who now don’t have houses,
don’t have water,
don’t have cars,
are missing pets,
lacking livelihood,
have lost loved ones.

They’re no different from me.

Oh, but I want to make them
the object of judgment
the image of wrath,
victims of poor planning,
poor execution, poor choices,
I want to make them these,
for my own well-being.

But I can’t.
They’re no different from me.

“Oh,” I cry, “but look at them!”
They are dimes and I’m a quarter,
They are copper, I am nickel
They are silver, I am gold.


Because, here I am and there they are.
But no, they are not different from me.

They of the lifeboats, and the life jackets,
Who hold fast to the hands of the small ones,
Who carry all that remains wrapped in plastic.
They are chosen, too.

Who am I, if not they?

I’m at your service,
I’ve chosen to be chosen.

For any outcome, any service, any sacrifice.
There’s no fine print in the service contract.
I am at your disposal.
I knew the risk when I signed up.

But did I know that it might come to this?

That you would risk me,
for the other You so love, because
You love me that much, too?
That’s the only way it can be
In God’s economy.

Lord, help me see
coins of different denomination,
different luster, and different lineage,
yet of singular value. Inestimable.


By the Lord’s accounting,
We’re all just a pile of change.

One by one, He loves us.
One by one, He meets us.
One by one, He saves us.
God only counts to one.

“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

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