Lord Christ,
I wish I could offer You a reasonably clean
and swept house to dwell in, but I can't.

I can say鈥攁nd know the meaning of鈥�
"I am not worthy to have You come
under my roof . . ."
But You are already there!
Living among the once-flourishing idols.
The floor is dirty
and at times the room is airless鈥�
even for me!
I am ashamed of Your presence there,
yet You slept in a cave
and on a donkey's back at night
under the desert stars.
So, if I can't change Your accommodations,
let me rejoice all the same
that You are present.
I must believe strongly, Lord,
that I can't question this:
that You are at home with sinners鈥�
and my greatest sin, Lord Christ,
is that I don't want to be a sinner!
Nor do I easily accept it鈥攕till,
the evidence is overwhelming.
But hope is like a green shoot
in the midst of an airless, disordered world.
And that hope comes from Your Spirit.
I rest in that hope, Lord.

鈥� Rev. William Breault, S.J., b. 1926