Nowhere

Nowhere

And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” 

 

According to the gospels of Matthew and Mark,

Jesus did have a home, in Capernaum.

I wonder who looked after it while he walked

his itinerant road for those three years;

did he put it on the market

or was he only renting? Perhaps,

for a time, the Son of Man did have a place

to lay his head.

Most nights I am at home

and I lay mine upon my familiar pillow

with gratitude. The eleventh residence

since we began our married life

is also our own. My itinerancy

requires a large removalist’s truck,

being no match for that of my Lord;

and my discipleship seems to be bordered

by my need for modest comfort

and a future with at least a degree of certainty.

In the face of all this, I stubbornly assert

my claim to be a disciple,

a sometime servant of truth,

a stumbling sharer of gospel hope,

a learner striving towards the Kingdom;

following one who had no place to lay his head,

and hoping to prove fruitful.

 

© Ken Rookes

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