If Jesus Came to Your House: A Poem
The wind chimes whisper a gentle plea, A hush descends, a mystery. The scent of lilies, a subtle grace, A sudden stillness fills the space.
A knock, so soft, upon the door, A feeling deep, I've felt before. Not fear, but peace, a calming light, Banishing shadows of the night.
I open wide, and there He stands, With gentle eyes and outstretched hands. No fanfare grand, no royal show, Just simple presence, soft and low.
(H2) What would you do if Jesus came to your house?
The question lingers, deep inside, My hurried life, I cast aside. Would fear or joy my heart possess? Would I confess my wretchedness?
Would I offer Him the finest wine, Or share the simple bread and brine? Would I boast of deeds both great and small, Or humbly kneel, confessing all?
(H2) What would Jesus say if he came to my home?
Perhaps He'd smile, a knowing glance, And see the love within my chance. To serve, to help, to share my bread, To lift the weary, comfort the dread.
He wouldn't judge the dust and grime, But see the heart, beyond the time. The striving soul, the yearning deep, The silent tears I softly weep.
(H2) How would you feel if Jesus visited your house?
A humbling grace, a sacred trust, A moment held, beyond all dust. The weight of sin, the earthly pain, Washed clean, renewed, restored again.
The presence felt, a holy fire, Igniting hope, a pure desire. To live a life, more true and bright, Reflected in His loving light.
(H2) What would you prepare if Jesus came to your house for dinner?
No lavish feast, no silver gleam, Just simple fare, a humble dream. A shared repast, a grateful heart, A sacred moment, set apart.
The bread we break, the wine we share, A silent prayer, beyond compare. For grace received, for love so true, A blessed moment, me and you.
The poem ends, the vision fades, But in my heart, His love pervades. A quiet hope, a constant plea, That He will visit, and be with me.
