Nazareth Had a Zip Code


They said, “Can anything good come from there?”

And still, He came.
Not draped in royalty,
But wrapped in skin that smelled like dust and destiny.

If Nazareth had a zip code today—
It might be 90013.
Skid Row.
Where prophets preach without pulpits,
And angels wear hoodies, asking for change you can’t see.

This ain’t just poverty—it’s prophecy.
Not a pit, but a portal.
Where the veil is thinnest
And the Kingdom slips through the cracks in the concrete.

Jesus wouldn’t be in Rome.
He wouldn’t be blue check verified.
He’d be in a tent off 5th and San Pedro,
Praying with the addicts,
Laughing with the madmen,
Eating with the ones we pretend not to see.

Because that’s what grace does—
It chooses the gutter over the gallery.
The rejected over the revered.
The place you’d never pick,
So no man could claim the glory.

They still say, “Nothing good can come from there.”
And He still comes.
Over and over.
In every Skid Row, every Southside,
Every forgotten corner of the earth
Where broken hearts dare to believe
That maybe, just maybe,
God still bleeds for them.

Nazareth had a zip code.
And it still does.
Look again.
You might be standing on holy ground.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

THIRTY-TWO

MAGNETIC SINGULARITY

The Weight of Knowing