A riddle for Christians

There are times when a question,
a venturing out, requires courage,
when belief stands rigid, a stone castle,
brilliant, beautiful, and safe
for the rich who fund it; safe for the poor
who hoist the mortar on their backs.

There are times when questions
are the parapet of earth we raise
against the visceral threat of faith
and its demand to join in battle,
despite the whining, mewling
protests of our scepticism.

Drawn, then, by the wounded hands
of Christ to fight and die, what will we do
with this conundrum?

Funded only by the widow’s mite,
stripped of our swords, bereft
of ordinance laid neatly up
like stairs to heaven, and even more,
denied a shield of laws to keep
the world at bay: we must, with zeal,
feed the poor, lay low the world,
the flesh, and the devil—
and all the while weep for joy.

And the charge does not end there.
See the cross? Do as He did:
take it up, hang upon it, and love.

Kevin Hadduck has published poems in about two-dozen journals—literary, religious, theological and medical. Hecurrently works as director of the Student Success Center at Tabor College, the Mennonite Brethren school headquartered in Hillsboro, Kan.