May I Come In?
By Doug Bastian
He grew up a pure example
For the work he was to do,
Shocked the rabbis in the Temple
With his wisdom which shone through.
Worked like all men to make ends meet,
Helped his dad make things of wood,
With rough hands and dusty, tough feet
Fit right in where e’er he stood.
Blended with his people’s goings,
Did not tell from whence he came,
Saw their plight and their souls’ longings,
Saw their leaders’ crafty game.
Then his cousin John came calling
By the Sea of Galilee,
Choosing hides to be his clothing—
Locusts with his daily tea.
John called out for true repentance
To the crowds that gathered there,
So that they’d avoid the sentence
Holy God will bring to bear.
Look! Watch your Messiah enter,
Breaking on the earthly scene,
Heaven’s dove shows John his Mentor,
“This your Lamb may now be seen.”
We are glad he came to show us
How to step into the Light,
How to bear our Cross of Jesus
To the vict’ry over Night.
See him o’er the City weeping,
Grieving o’er hard hearts he saw,
At Gethsemane tears seeping—
Then he drank the cup of gall.
While our tears on earth aren’t yet gone,
Now they’re kept in Heaven’s vase,
In Christ we now sing Heaven’s song—
He’s preparing us a place.
Most who hear this call will not turn—
“If you’re thirsty come and drink”—
Water from earth’s broken cistern
Seems more promising, they think.
Yet he stands at your door knocking,
Asking, “May I please come in?”
Wait not till the crowds come flocking,
Leave behind the cursed din.