The Syrian refugees, the poor standing in the street begging, the people pushing at our border — what if these were not just signs of God’s kingdom coming, but the kingdom itself and our chance to be a major participant in that kingdom?
The refugee, the homeless
Intrude upon our stage.
We are not prepared; this isn’t expected
It prompts in us a rage—
This is not to be; this isn’t right!
This second coming cannot be!
But God’s kingdom comes in disturbing guise
And upsets what we thought we’d see.
The hungry on our left, and see
Dead bodies on our right.
Mass shootings, make-shift memorials,
Harbingers of awkward light.
We insist on clean and crystal clear;
We resist it looking like this.
But His kingdom comes with thunder anyway
To forge, to purge, to shift.
The proud, the tall, the know-it-alls
Fall from upended chairs,
As curtains close on the upturned nose,
Crushing thrones they thought were theirs.
No time for applause, no ceremonies
No banquets for ribbons or awards,
Just one last chance to join His dance
For this kingdom’s now keeping score.
Vast the need; it’s in our face!
We haves can close our doors,
While an act of God goes on outside
And will wait for us no more.
See! Hear! Grab the lamps!
Leap through the needle’s eye!
For kingdom’s coming, veiled brilliantly
In those we thought we could pass by.