Where have the radicals gone?

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Where have the radicals gone

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Tonight I am helping with the Soup Run

Tonight I am helping out with the Birmingham Soup Run. Faith groups around the city are organised in a rota to provide meals and hot drinks to the homeless in the city centre at 8pm every night of the week.

Our group does the 4th Friday of every month. We meet up to make crates of sandwiches, flasks of soup and tea and catch up with one another before piling into a couple of cars and giving out free food on the pavement, opposite a multi-story car park.

In some way, I feel it gives me a bit more authenticity or integrity to talk and write about community and social justice. Perhaps I am doing “my bit” for the poor and downtrodden, but I don’t feel a sense of triumph at the end of the night, or feel like patting myself on the back…

I just feel sad. Really sad. The brief exchanges I have with our friends who receive the food make me realise how human, how broken, how real these people are. For a short time, I get a glimpse and a whiff of their lives and it makes me feel that a few hours once a month is not what a first Century rabbi had in mind when he spoke about separating the sheep from the goats and giving away my shirt and coat to those who need them.

Far from feeling happy that I might have done a good thing by taking part in the soup run, I feel frustrated that I am constrained by the norms of society and my own fear from getting involved in the lives of these broken people. I don’t want to pay of my conscience with a couple of hours of good deeds, but desire a heart that is big enough to care for them all dearly.

They are all someone’s brother, father, grandfather, daughter. All I can do is silently pray for them, knowing and secretly hoping that I won’t be called to be the answer to my own prayers.

Before you

I’m filled with all these bitter feelings
I am groaning under the weight
Of my emotions
And though you seem to crush me
Into the ground
With the weight of your holiness
And expectation
I still don’t know where to find you
I don’t know where you live
I want to stand up to you
Before you
And argue my case
I don’t deserve this life
And your reply?
What would I make of answers?
Your judgement
Your voice destructive
For the audacity of standing up to you
And before you
Surely you’d spare my life
Because you are just and righteous
As I prove my innocence
Before you
Standing up to you
My life is not my fault
But I can’t find you
Or catch sight of you
I’ve searched the temple and the church
The great outdoors
The quiet of my room
The quiet of my heart
I see no evidence of you
Or for you
God, you have made my heart blind
From the fear of you
Yet I will find a way
Out of the darkness
To stand
Before you