Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile,
The short and simple annals of the poor. – Thomas Gray, Elegy in a Country Churchyard
So many wasted words, so much wasted breath debating Christ’s Second Coming. First century disciples believed it was imminent in their lifetime. Generation after generation taught that it would come like a thief in the night. Later, the apocalyptic religion of Rastafarianism would claim it DID occur in the birth of Hailie Selassie, Jesus incarnate.
2,000 years later, there are some things of which I’m fairly certain. If such an event happened, there are places I doubt Jesus would appear.
I doubt he would make a guest appearance on Joel Osteen’s TV show. I doubt he would materialize at the Vatican, the White House, or the chambers of the U.N. I doubt you would see him on a podcast from Mars Hill, visiting Billy Graham, or signing copies of the New Testament at a Jeremy Camp concert.
No, I believe he would walk the piss-stained alleys of our inner cities, or the dusty paths of a refugee camp. You might find him in the midst of an Ebola outbreak or tending to the wounded of a village razed by tribal conflict.
How would you know he was there? By the sheer crowds of the broken, the sick, and the poor flocking around him. By joyful Alleluias erupting from the forgotten of this world who – through his words and actions – discovered their eternal worth in the eyes of God.
I take this moment to thank all the brothers and sisters I’ve known who followed Christ’s example without need for recognition or acclaim. Thank you for walking among the wounded. Thank you for creating power spots of love and light in this world’s darkest places. Thank you for bringing heaven to earth. Thank you for seeing that the sacramental moments of shared human love are far more valuable than riches.
Thank you for believing
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.