I am the man pushing a cart of cans down the street as you walk to work
I am the one begging for money at a stopped light,
Walking up and down the rows of cars and watching as you turn away
I am the woman, hand held out begging for change
I am the brother and sister huddled under a cardboard box as heaven pours its tears on us
I walk past the church every Sunday and turn away
I turn away from scornful glances, from whispers and parents pulling their children closer
I have learned long ago not to ask for money from these
They shake their head, cast a judgmental eye, turn away and say,
“Have you met Jesus today?”
What they don’t understand is I crave Him but can’t have Him
I reach for Him but I am an untouchable
I pass by the churches in tears because I cannot enter in peace
Why are there so many churches?
But where is the church?
Where is the place that I may find Him and be at rest?
I keep walking, trying to find somewhere where I don’t have to wear my Sunday best
But everywhere I enter I am turned away
If these are Christians perhaps I am better off
Christians are the ones who speak of loving their neighbors
Yet we steer clear of the church Sunday morning, knowing we will be cast aside
Where is His church?
If this is His church I do not want it
I do not want the hypocrisy, the judgment, the condemnation
Give me the atheists if these are the so called Christians
Did not Jesus care for the poor?
Why are His people throwing us aside, looking away as if we do not exist?
Would Jesus not love me?
Christians look at me and see me
Do not see my tattered clothing, my unkempt hair and dull eyes
See that I am a person, one with a voice which you continue to smother
If only you’d realize that if you don’t help there won’t be another
Your silence helps to keep me oppressed
So when I am gone your soul will be at rest,
All you will think is, “He’s in a better place now”
But because you neglected me I have turned from Christ
What good is He to me when His people lead the lives of others?
Perhaps if you had cared I would’ve seen His face
Hear what I say, this is a warning and a plea
If not you, I have no one to care for me
Please, open your eyes and see that I am here
Remember the Son of Man was once as I, homeless and scorned
See He in Me and maybe you will assist
Don’t turn your head when I walk by
A simple smile may be the difference between Heaven or Hell
