This piece is part of the weekly series “Growing Forward: Insights for Building Better Food and Agriculture Systems,” presented by the Global Food Institute at the George Washington University and the nonprofit organization Food Tank. Each installment highlights forward-thinking strategies to address today’s food and agriculture related challenges with innovative solutions. To view more pieces in the series, click here.
In early March 2020, as the COVID-19 pandemic began to upend daily life, I received an urgent call from the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA).
The agency asked our team at the Baylor University Collaborative on Hunger and Poverty to scale up a small Texas-based pilot program—Meals-to-You—into a nation-wide effort. The program, which was originally designed to deliver meals to children in rural areas during the summer months, was also the result of years of bipartisan research, community engagement, and collaboration with school districts, food companies, and logistics experts.
Our team answered the USDA’s call–and as schools across the country suddenly closed, we got to work. Together, we were part of a national effort that included public agencies, private companies, and academic institutions coming together to deliver over 40 million meals to 270,000 children in the most remote parts of the U.S.
Today, I find myself thinking back to this powerful demonstration of what’s possible when we work together in a spirit of compassion and urgency. Because in an era marked by great division, I remain convinced that hunger is simply one of the clearest measures of a society’s moral and systemic health. Rising food insecurity among children, working families, and the elderly isn’t just a humanitarian concern—it’s a national litmus test. It exposes our priorities, what we tolerate from our institutions, and how seriously we take the obligation to love our neighbors.
And while our politics may divide us, fighting hunger should be something that brings us together. Americans across the political spectrum agree: no child should go to bed hungry, and every family should have a fair shot at providing for their children. During the pandemic, we witnessed a rare and beautiful moment of unity—government, industry, and academia coming together to serve children in rural communities. That collaboration even helped shape bipartisan policy, leading to the permanent inclusion of non-congregate summer meal options for rural families.
These efforts recognized the truth that hunger isn’t an isolated issue. It’s a symptom of deeper failures—economic dislocation, unaffordable housing, under-resourced schools, and fragmented social systems. It’s also a policy choice. It’s a choice to cut billions of dollars from the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP)—this is literally food for highly impoverished families. And it’s a choice for states like Texas to reject hundreds of millions of dollars in federal nutrition assistance through the Summer EBT (Electronic Benefit Transfer) program. In 2025 alone, Texas will leave over US$400 million on the table—funds that could have helped families buy groceries during the summer for their food insecure children.
Solving hunger also requires more than food; it demands that we build local, cross-sector solutions rooted in shared responsibility and community leadership. We’ve seen what’s possible when we rally around a simple goal like ensuring every child is fed. The impact stretches beyond nutrition: it restores dignity, strengthens communities, and begins to mend deeper fractures in our society.
As a Christian, I’m reminded that hunger was a spiritual litmus test for Jesus. “I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat,” he said in Matthew 25. When Jesus announced his mission in Luke 4, he declared good news for the poor and freedom for the oppressed—a vision so radical that his audience nearly threw him off a cliff. Today, we face a similar choice: will we ration compassion to the “deserving poor,” or will we embrace the deeper call to gospel-shaped justice?
This is not just about charity—it’s about justice, stewardship, and the fabric of our nation.
Despite this, the U.S. budget reconciliation bill was recently signed into law, shifting a tremendous burden onto states to share the costs of SNAP. The consequences of this historic shift will be devastating for struggling Americans in states that cannot afford—or simply do not want to pay for—the program. Families will lose access to basic nutrition. Children will go to school hungry. Seniors will skip meals to afford medicine.
As people of faith, we are reminded Jesus didn’t come to serve one political party or nation. He came to proclaim Jubilee—good news for the poor, healing for the brokenhearted, and full tables for the hungry.
So, take a moment to consider how, as a nation, we are at our best when we care for the hungry. Policies that strengthen access to summer nutrition programs and SNAP for our impoverished households are critical steps toward that goal. Because hunger is not only a litmus test for our systemic response systems—but the very soul of our nation.
The hope of resurrection always begins in places of despair. If we choose to move forward together—across lines of difference—we can build a future shaped not by scarcity but by abundance; not by apathy, but by action.
Let’s rise to the test.
Photo courtesy of Franki Chamaki, Unsplash
