God Without Gloves

You didn’t get a health and safety check before coming to earth,
Didn’t wear gloves when you touched those who were ill and dying,
Didn’t douse yourself in sanitiser after washing feet,
Didn’t ask for a risk assessment when facing crucifixion,
Or demand a guarantee about the likelihood of resurrection.
You didn’t threaten to sue people like me who put you on that cross,
Praying instead, ‘Father forgive them…’
And you made a ministry out of interruptions and mishaps,
Entering into our days of complication and the unexpected.
Your life didn’t go smoothly, but then neither does ours.
And that’s why you came, unafraid of the dirt and the dark,
Stepping right into the squalid and the sullied, the mess and mixed motives.
The one who makes things clean, the one who is holy unafraid of contamination.

But when the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples,
“Why does your teacher eat with such scum?” Matthew 9 v 11

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