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| Dressed in torn and tattered clothes with a rank smell on his breath. He stammers to the front pew- ahead of all the rest. I should be going to him welcoming - asking his name: But, alas, I'm out of visitor's cards and here, in my seat, remain. Her voice is loud - her temper quick at the young age of only eight. She often comes to church alone- five, ten, twenty minutes late. The last time she walked through the door was right about two weeks ago. No one's been to check on her-I shun the thought myself to go. We say they live a different lifestyle - alternative - I believe it's called. Two men together in one home- next door to the church - I'm appalled! I am a simple man of God- I love my wife and family. But to invite these two in to dine? I'd betray the faith that saved me. But then last night I had a dream and I woke in a chilling sweat. I was not at home, at work, or church. I had passed from life to death. It came my time to see God's face. I thought I had never been so moved. "Oh, Father!" I cried, "I want to praise You." His answer hit hard, "Who are you?" "Father, I served You for years in the church. I attended, I prayed, and I sang. Car washes, board meetings, Wednesday night service. I was there when no one else came." With sadness in His eyes He sighed, "You call Me 'Father' but you do not know The work that I would have you do: Who to seek, when to speak, where to go. I gave you a gift you never received. I loved you greatly when no one else could. I treasured your service hoping you'd see - but for all of that what did you do? You turned away the lonely, poor, and weak. You despised those I gave My life for. I do not know you - you're a stranger to Me. Do not call me 'Father' anymore." |
| The Stranger |
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