Whose Mission?

If you have twelve men on your side; Only twelve- and one denies you- And the rest fall asleep at the critical hour, You can be sure, it's god's mission you're on. If you were born of a virgin and a shepherd, And your woman is a reformed harlot, And you are expected to oppose the king of the land Entirely alone; you know you can be sure of it, It's god's mission. If you are a mere girl, Born in France, and afflicted with hallucinations Expecting to lead an army of men to victory; Then burnt at the stake- it's god's mission. If you are a slave in Egypt, And plagues are falling upon the city, And they send you away with a blessing Instead of a curse, you know it's god's mission. If you are a baby, set floating in a basket Upon a river, and rescued by a Queen, You will know by these signs It was god's mission. If you are the underdog in a battle And must play your harp for the King, Who is afflicted by migraines, to turn the tide Of battle, you can be sure of whose mission it is. If you are a member of one of the richest religions on earth; More powerful, more wealthy, and nearly unopposed- Able to make laws at will, and people continually kneel down to you- Maybe you should wonder about whose mission it is?