The fence rises
where the city says,
No further.
Metal posts
driven into the ground,
wire stretched tight
between fear and comfort.
On one side—
clean sidewalks,
bright windows,
the quiet rhythm of ordinary life.
On the other—
tents in the rain,
shopping carts heavy with survival,
neighbors whose names
have slipped from the city’s memory.
The fence speaks
a simple language:
Stay there.
Not here.
But the Gospel
does not speak that language.
The Gospel walks
through locked gates.
It stands beside the outcast.
It kneels in the mud
where the world prefers
not to look.
For the One who carried the cross
was also led
outside the city walls.
He knows the road
beyond the gate.
And when His words return
they sound like a hammer
against the wire:
Love your neighbor.
Welcome the stranger.
Whatever you do for the least of these—
you do for Me.
Then the fence line trembles.
Because mercy
cannot stay contained.
The Gospel moves
where barriers stand,
and quietly begins
its patient work—
not tearing down the city,
but opening the heart
until the place once guarded by wire
becomes again
a place
for the neighbor.
Pastor Street Gospel Lee
St. GMC Corps
June 28, 2026
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