Being the Church With the "Least of These"
He has grass in his hair, a damp stench, and an overly filled backpack as he wanders into the place of worship. No one greets him. No one asks his name. He watches parents politely whisper to their kids to steer clear of him. They've deemed him a threat. He listens intently to the preacher dynamically proclaim about the all-inclusive and accepting love of Jesus, but he leaves feeling excluded and alone. He leaves thinking that the love of the One “who had no place to lay His head” must only apply to housed folk. She hobbles into the back of the van. She'd just been picked up from the homeless shelter. They travel miles to the massive suburban church, only to be told to sit in the back - the roped-off section where all the "homeless" must sit. She obeys, knowing she's just a number, a mascot, a "feel-good photo", for their "thriving homeless ministry", helping these uppity Church folk get brownie points with the One who said, "the first