The Least of These by Thomas Fullmer I found Jesus in a dumpster today… his aged body lying face down

in his own vomit, drunk and passed out. cloaked in an ugly, moldy brown coat that reeked of filth, alcohol, and sweat; arguing with invisible demons of a long dead war, lost in his silent rage. I found Jesus crouched in a condemned apartment building… her young black body wracked with confusion and despair, evicted, thrown out on the streets; a baby girl crying for milk she did not have to give nested at her bosom; two somber, frightened boys following in a trail of their mother's tears; their faces dirty and grim, their prospects for tomorrow worse. I found Jesus in an emergency room… frightened, shaking, shattered, and bruised, choking on her sobs between her tears; her face black and blue, grimacing with pain; her lip cut, her mouth dripping blood; huddled half naked, wrapped in a black overcoat, clutching her chest where the brute had kicked her, breaking her ribs, and lacerating her lungs. I found Jesus in a welfare line… a beautiful, shy girl, pregnant at sixteen, feeling very lost, begging for an existence at the feet of those who considered her plight barely worth their acknowledgement; nowhere else to go, no place else to turn, no dark corner to hide her assumed shame. I found Jesus in a hospital room… so many IV tubes, running out of his ten-year-old body that his innocent face was obscured; as he struggled for each breath, fighting for life, for just a moment more; the cancer eating away more of his young body with each beat of his heart. I found Jesus where I didn't think to look… He wasn't at a church or near a shrine; he was where He'd been of old; among the least of these his children. In humility, I followed him there… ===

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