And I see the poor all around me. I read of fires and homelessness. I know of shacks and children who have no preschools. I hear the sirens wailing on the other side of the railway line. Crammed taxis, overloaded trains. Injustices at every age.
Yet I get to hear the stories of proud parents whose small people graduated from home schools where all the (limited) supplies were donated. Of children who get their education round the wells or only in public libraries, or from a Toy Library bus. I know women who smile as they make do with scraps. Who freely offer hugs and love and encouragement to those who have so very much. Of men who take pride in the labour of each day, doing hard work well.
Living between the haves and the have-nots is so very hard. This seems to be a very black and white line. I am white, and so many that I see struggling are black.
I find myself weeping this morning.
Dear people, so loved by our Father who died for us all (not just the ones who are the haves), won't you use my white privilege as the starting blocks for your race? My heart's desire is not to grab the ladder of success for myself. It's to kneel before you so that you can climb on my shoulders, and reach for more. For your goals. For your dreams. For hope. For both of our sakes. For all of our children's futures.
I cannot lay down my white privilege. But I can offer it to you. I offer you my shoulders, my heart, and my hands. My voice to champion your cause.
We are not one colour. But we are one multitude before His throne.
------
Rev 7:9 After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands.
