WHO IS THE CHRIST
Who is the Christ
Who comes among us?
He who was born in poverty?
A tiny babe for whom a star shone?
Yes, and we still
Turn him away because the inn
Is too full… or something.
He whom we say we welcome
Is alone and hungry and unloved
Lying in a dark street
In desperate drunken despair.
He is a neglected and abused child,
and the one we too eagerly judged.
He sits beside us in church
And passes us on the street.
He waits to be welcomed and loved;
To be accepted without conditions.
He is still waiting… everywhere
Hoping to hear, “Yes, the inn is full,
But it is very cold outside,
Come on in, we’ll make room for you.”
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