There’s a kind of poverty no wallet can measure.
It’s not the empty fridge. Not the torn shoes.
Not the hungry child in a broken system.
No.
The poorest person alive…
is the one who has never known Jesus.
Not known about Him. Known Him.
We live in a world that stood breathless the day man walked on the moon.
We printed it on front pages.
Called it the greatest day in history.
A footprint on dust.
But somehow – we missed it.
The day God walked on our dust.
The day Heaven’s King wrapped Himself in flesh
and took His first breath in a manger.
The Creator,
stepping into creation.
And we missed it.
That’s poverty.
Because the wealth of the world means nothing,
If you’ve never felt the love of Jesus
Fill the hollow spaces inside you.
Nothing compares to the moment, He lifts shame off your shoulders.
or heals the cracks you thought you’d live with forever.
He loved us when we were chasing the wrong gods.
He still does.
And He walks roads with those who mock Him.
Still calling…
Still knocking…
Because His love is louder than unbelief.
So today, I’m not impressed by the moonwalk.
I’m in awe of the cross-walk.
Of the miracle that the God of Glory
walked dusty paths,
touched lepers,
fed doubters,
and died for the very ones
Who spat at Him.
And then rose again
so we’d never have to stay poor in spirit.
The poorest person alive isn’t the one without food.
It’s the one who’s never tasted the Bread of Life.
And that’s why.
We can’t be silent.
Because somewhere out there,
Someone still doesn’t know….
That Love wore skin,
and came to find them...
