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I Am Not Worthy to Have You Come
under My Roof

William Breault, S.J. b. 1926


Lord Christ,
I wish I could offer You a reasonably clean
and swept house to dwell in, but I can't.

I can say—and know the meaning of—
"I am not worthy to have You come
under my roof . . ."
But You are already there!
Living among the once-flourishing idols.
The floor is dirty
and at times the room is airless—
even for me!
I am ashamed of Your presence there,
yet You slept in a cave
and on a donkey's back at night
under the desert stars.
So, if I can't change Your accommodations,
let me rejoice all the same
that You are present.
I must believe strongly, Lord,
that I can't question this:
that You are at home with sinners—
and my greatest sin, Lord Christ,
is that I don't want to be a sinner!
Nor do I easily accept it—still,
the evidence is overwhelming.
But hope is like a green shoot
in the midst of an airless, disordered world.
And that hope comes from Your Spirit.
I rest in that hope, Lord.