Ginger had a chance to go to Big Tent Christianity in Raleigh this past week. I didn’t get to go, but got to hear some great stuff second hand. Tonight’s sonnet comes from some of those gleanings and the question I am left to ponder: what are the responsibilities of a privileged disciple?
Seventeen million children go to bed hungry every night,
and I wonder how it is that fact can be;
the answer, said the speaker, is right there in plain sight:
they simply don’t know either you or me.
If we knew them, goes the logic of discipleship and grace,
we would never let them sleep without a meal;
yet the truth is we pass by them, even see them face to face —
introductions let us start to help and heal.
We cannot help our neighbors if our neighbors we don’t know,
or if we decide who’s worthy of our care.
As disciples who are privileged, we need to let our riches go
along with the excuse, “We’re unaware.”
I know I state the obvious to say discipleship is hard:
every motion matters; grace offers no discards.