At first it seemed
As though it was a dream,
But when I woke I realized
I'd been there not just once,
But many times:

I dreamt they threw a party, once,
In Jesus' name
And everybody in the world came.
Within a massive auditorium
That held us all
We revelled at this joyous
Christmas ball.

I sat with friends and family
Quite near
As all the people that I love
Were there.
We ate a feast so lavishly
Prepared
And talked and laughed and sang
With Christmas cheer.

We praised our God
And offered toasts in Jesus' name.

And then the gifts:
Apparent love and gratitude
Seemed to abound
As all the packages
Were passed around.

It was a party
Like we'd never seen.
And so appropriate
On Christmas Eve.

As I sat basking
In the joy of the event,
I felt a hand
Upon my arm.
I turned to see
Who wanted me
And looked into
The eyes of Christ.

His eyes were sad.
His hair was matted
To his brow
With sweat from toil.

"Do you remember telling me
"That you would help?"
I said I did,
But almost wished
Right then
That he'd forgot.

I looked away from him
For just a moment,
Knowing, somewhat grudgingly,
That I would have to leave my place.
Then I excused myself
And looked at him
And said, "Let's go."

We walked through endless aisles
Of tables like my own:
The feast, the love,
The gifts, the joy.

We walked and walked
Across the auditorium
Until I wondered where it was
That he was taking me
And wondered what it was
He wanted me to do.

Quite soon I noticed
That the feasts
Weren't near as grand
As mine had been.
I noticed, too,
That there were fewer gifts,
But still we walked,
Not stopping - even here -
To help.

And then I saw what lay ahead.
There were no tables, feasts, or gifts,
But there were people:
Millions more than we'd just passed,
And they had nothing.
'Cept for hunger. And for thirst.
And they had rags, disease, and pain.
But they had something else:
The love of Christ.

He stopped and looked at me.
I looked at him.
The message - e'en without a word -
Was clear.
I felt inadequate.
I asked if he was able still
To feed the multitudes
As he had done in days of old.
He said he could,
Through me, and all the others
Who had told him they would help.

I knew - and so did he -
What I had done
With what he'd given me.
I cried in shame.
I'd toasted him,
But hadn't helped at all.

I wished in vain
That I'd not spent
My funds and time
On gifts and merriment
But had, instead,
Done what I'd told him I would do.

Then, as I wept,
Expecting his contempt
He put his hand upon my head.
He turned my face toward his and said,
"I think that now you understand
"What it's about."
"Do what you can
"With what I give to you.
"That's all I ask.
"And know that I will give you
"All you need."

Then I awoke
And cried some more.

And now I hope
That friends and family
Will understand
Why I won't be there
At my table
For the feast next year.
I'll be with him.
I hope they'll come along.

Oh, one more thing:
He posed a question, too:

He wondered why we had to pick Christmas - of all days - on which to annually exhibit our most
gluttonous display of the materialism which he asks us to surrender.

I didn't answer him.
It seemed rhetorical.