by Ken Sehested
Eons ago, “the Lord”—in the guise of three traveling
strangers—ventured into Abraham’s and Sarah’s
oaken camp at *Mamre, were given hospitality, and
then announced the promise of a fertile womb beyond all conceivable prospect.
Today, that same angelic presence peers through the eyes of yet more strangers, waylaid on some new Jericho Road, modern refugees from Cain's ancient madness, and
not so far from the ancient Mamrean encounter. Their apprehensive, hungering gaze
is arresting, innocently clawing at stingy souls, imploring more than furtive glances and alibis.
Their befriending is an opening
to Heaven’s juncture with history’s crossroad, Spirit contending
with worldly confusion over the terms of tenable security.
The First Testament says it plainly enough: “You shall love
the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt”
(Deuteronomy 10:19 among a score of similar injunctions).
In the Second Testament, the plight of strangers—the
stranded, the stripped, the stricken and the strapped—is
equated with the sake of Jesus himself.
Thereby, and in these very days, the judicial transcript of
Matthew 25 is published anew:
Lord, when did we see thee. . . ?