For the large majority of us, no matter how bad our mother or father looked, it would not keep us from embracing them. No matter how badly cancer had eaten: taking its toll on their bodies, we would still want to be physically close to them.
The same would be true for our mate or kids. We would discount the dirt underneath their nails, the half-digested hot dog vomited on the bed: the nauseous excrement from loose bowels and the rancorous smell would not offend us. After all—they are kin, they are our family and we’d accept them.
No matter that your mother might be toothless, might be almost blind with cataract and stumbling around with a walker—even falling, splaying out like a baby Again, they are our family and we love them.
Disheveled, mangy, covered with filth, we are steadfast and gravitate to those who reared us.
For the love of Jesus, we are to be the same for strangers. We are to love, to embrace the homeless, the poor, the forgotten, the prisoners, those who are sick—those who are without.
For the love of Jesus, we are to love all the same. We are to seek God’s children as our children and our brothers and sisters through God’s creation the same as our family.
Yet, for the Love of Jesus—we don’t love those dirty remnants—those castaways of society. And the final conclusion or result of this is that we have rejected the least of those all because we have that lack of the love of Jesus.