"C-c-can I share with the group?" His little voice barely rose above the 20 others that filled the room. We were in the middle of our inner city Bible club.

Motioning with my hand, I invited him to come to the front and stand with me. He whispered in my ear, "I want to t-tell them about G-god."

With painstaking effort he slowly spoke to the group of kids squirming on the church floor, "K-killing is wrong. Every time you k-kill someone you k-k-kill someone G-g-god made."

I squeezed Emilio's shoulder, he looked up at me. He's not used to such physical contact, "What are you d-d-doing?"

"Just giving you a hug."

"B-be careful with that hugging. You m-might pop my heart out."

Every so often there is a prophet among us. Someone who speaks the truth. Before Jesus was born, a cousin prepared the world for his coming. There was nothing likely about John, he ate locust, dipped people in water and insisted on pitching his tent in the harsh desert. In today's world he would have been casually dismissed as a street corner fanatic. You might think the King of kings would have chosen a messenger with a little more curb appeal…but he sent us John the Baptist, sporting a wardrobe heavily emphasizing domestic livestock.

Our prophet is seven-years old. Unlike John the Baptist, Emilio isn't exactly a "one voice crying out in the wilderness", on the contrary, he is soft spoken and struggles with each word. Our prophet has a profound stutter. His mother got pregnant with him when she was barely fourteen and now both of them live with extended family, surrounded by street drugs and cheap morality. When I visit the small house his grandma rents for several generations of aunts, uncles, cousins and siblings, I notice the broken front window and remember that Emilio has no winter jacket. But in the Kingdom of God the past that proceeds us and the odds against us are irrelevant if God chooses to move within us.

With great effort he looked out on all the kids and said, "G-g-god gave his life for me...I will g-give my life t-to him."

I shook my head in agreement…what I really wanted to do was cry. Here was a boy with a father in jail and a mom that has a history of disappearing, leaving Emilio and his little brother to fend for themselves, and yet in all the chaos and injustice Emilio has found God. Or perhaps more true, God has found Emilio.

"I wrote it d-d-down." He continued slowly and held up a piece of construction paper, carefully lettered in crayon with his dyslexic script, "Hang it up here at ch-ch-church so G-g-god can look at it."

This first grader loves trading Pokemon cards and riding his scooter, but unlike most neighborhood boys his age, Emilio carries on like an old soul, deeply interested in what is true and equally passionate in insuring that his little friends don't miss out on any good news.

Emilio raised his hand, "C-c-can I talk?"

Nodding, I awaited some deep spiritual insight but Emilio simply began to weep. This little boy just broke down because his grandma died. I was speechless. Every kid and adult in the room was silent and we weren't quite sure how to continue. Emilio's tears reminded each of us of our own losses. The evening came to a close with a simple talk about heaven and all of us walking away thinking compassionately about so remarkable a soul as Emilio.

Emilio is preparing us all for Jesus. Just like John the Baptist. This precious boy is daily reminding each weary soul that God is real and redemption is relevant. His speech is halted and at times almost painful to listen to but every time I hear that boy put together a sentence I know that God is here. This prophet among us has given me room to remember that God is not silent. Emilio's truths have become an essential contradiction to the ache in our neighborhood. He and I live amidst a people whose wounds are visible to the naked eye. It's difficult to hide poverty, decay, illiteracy and domestic violence. It is just as difficult to ignore the voice of a small boy stuttering that God is good and loves his people.

You might think God looks on our aching community and would send his truth through an educated, gifted leader. Perhaps a courageous visionary, full of charisma, plans and solutions. But for reasons that reaffirm his promise, God speaks to us from the mouth of a little boy who has holes in his jeans and just last week, lost his second pair of mittens.

It's that same Christmas mystery…God sending a baby to a world that prayed for a king. Hand picking a young peasant named Mary instead of routing his son through Herod's royal courts. Jesus was far too average to please his own people and much too remarkable to make an outsider feel comfortable. He was a light shining in the darkness and Hope appearing in a place we condemned to despair. He too, was a prophet. He spoke the truth, be it razor sharp or mercy drenched. And some 2000 years later he put the breath of life into a boy whose mom named him Emilio. A boy that is a touch reminiscent of John the Baptist. No doubt John was a surprise to Elizabeth and I'm sure Jesus left his own parents speechless a time or two. And believe me when I say Emilio has left each of us a little more wide-eyed than we ever were before.

"G-g-god loves his people."
"Are you one of his people Emilio?" I stared into those huge brown eyes.
"Oh yes. I am."