My life's not particularly hard:
I ate out tonight, at a sweet and tangy restaurant.
My children are healthy and they have
Good doctors when they need them.
We're remodeling the upstairs bathroom.
What's difficult, Jesus, is your word,
Your incessant invitation to compassion,
Your bewildering insistence on courage,
Your befuddling call to discipleship.
Are you serious? Losing life to find it?
You: the almost 20-year-old in Gaza.
You: the colleagues who consider me coward.
You: the poor kid I met in jail this week.
You: the wind off the pacific, blowing down power lines.
You: the god-like one, headed for a cross.
