This week I ate at a delicious restaurant called the Lamb’s Club and was measured for a new suit for my wedding, for example, and I am grateful, but I also feel a little funny now and then about the things I can enjoy and afford. Which is probably as it should be. I think that privilege should always be uncomfortable and wealth should make us uneasy. So here is a prayer for my privileged heart, in hopes that I can do better:
God of the High Line and God of the desert, God of the steak house and God of the cook fire, God of the bespoke suit and God of second-hand jeans, God of the iPhone and God of handwritten note, God of Mercedes-Benz and God of the walking stick, God of five stars, hardwood floors and granite countertops, Whole Foods and sushi, God of cardboard signs and war, of drought and famine, of dark rooms and dirt roads, God of love and life and hope, please grant me a little perspective, a bigger heart, an open hand, eyes that look outward, forgiveness, and grace. Amen.