A homeless man …

A homeless man passed me on the street as I was receiving devistating news about one of my congregants.


He was the face of Christ down to the last wrinkle and in each greying hair.  He sauntered along the sidewalk.


The Spirit of Christ lived within him.  He lived within a different kingdom.  A kingdom far from the bar patrons drinking their overpriced beers on a Friday afternoon.  He may have tread two or three feet from them, but he existed a world away.

I made my way back into the restaurant.  Minutes later, I was walking back out.  The Christ was being handcuffed.  Whatever he looked like, whatever he did couldn’t be accepted or understood in this kingdom.

~ by mictori on April 20, 2012.

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