Born in Bethlehem, not Egypt’s sand,
So poor, my mother laid me where the livestock stand.
No room for strangers, no cradle of gold,
Just straw and shadows, the night bitter cold.
Mary barely healed, Joseph filled with fear,
We fled by moonlight-Herod’s men were near.
As they were hunting children, boys under two,
Killing them while searching for me, not you.
Refugees in flight, no papers, no plea,
Just a family running, desperate and free.
What if Herod’s sword had found me first,
No angel’s warning, no time to disperse?
Would you remember the boy who died with the rest,
A king in a manger, never to be blessed?
Years passed in silence, far from our home,
Nazareth’s hills waited, but we dared not roam.
Only when Herod’s shadow faded away
Did we return, still strangers, still praying each day.
I grew up knowing what it means to be cast out,
The foreigner’s burden, the migrant’s route.
Not just in Egypt, but in every town,
The outsider’s crown, the one looked down.
I told of a Samaritan, beaten and bruised,
The one who showed mercy, the one not refused.
A foreigner’s kindness, the greatest of all,
Breaking the barriers, tearing down walls.
I healed the centurion’s servant in pain,
A Roman outsider, yet faith was his gain.
Not from Israel, not from the fold,
But his trust in me was brighter than gold.
A Canaanite woman begged on her knees,
I blessed her child, her faith pleased me.
Ten lepers healed, but one came back,
A grateful Samaritan, faith intact.
I ate with sinners, outcasts, and more,
With Gentiles and strangers, I opened the door.
No borders, no fences, no “us” and “them,”
Just one table, one kingdom, one family of men.
I said, “I was a stranger and you welcomed me in,”
But you build walls and call mercy a sin.
You ask for my papers, my name, my face,
But I was the refugee-you know my place.
You talk of laws and who gets to stay,
But I faced courts in my own day.
Dragged before Pilate, Herod, the crowd,
No justice, no fairness, just shouting so loud.
Due process, you say, is the rule of the land,
But I was condemned with no helping hand.
The law bends for the powerful, breaks for the weak,
And I hung on a cross for the justice you seek.
If I came to your border, a child on the run,
Would you let me in or turn me to the sun?
Would you see the Messiah or just another face
Of a desperate family fleeing disgrace?
Remember the widow, the orphan, the poor,
The foreigner knocking at your door.
I walked in their sandals, I lived in their skin,
The kingdom I preach lets everyone in.
So next time you see a mother on the road,
A father with children, bearing a heavy load,
Remember my story, how close it came-
To ending in silence, forgotten by name.
Open your borders, your hearts, your eyes,
For I am the stranger in every disguise.
What you do for the migrant, the lost, the small,
You do it for me-I am one with them all
DrummerDave26
