Rags

November 12, 2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I look through my garments, knowing it has to be the right one,

Knowing I have to look my best when I come to Him.

All I find are rags and filth, the past staring back at me…

All I have to cover myself with is a name of sin.

 

I reach and take hold of something, knowing that I cannot stay here,

Knowing that regardless of my clothes, I have to go.

The wide-eyed stares may cut me deeply, but even deeper than that I ache,

Aching and longing for Someone…Someone I don’t even know.

 

There He is among the righteous, surrounded by the best of the best.

What was I thinking, why in the world would I be accepted here?

All I have to offer I have brought, the worthless one with something of worth,

I stand in desperation, trying to weep away my fear.

 

My tears fall like rain on His feet, as I pour my best upon this Man,

This Man whose softness and gentle love has drawn me close.

All shame and embarrassment threaten to flee, as I recklessly show my love,

This shame attached to a past of which all here with us know.

 

Will He accept me when He finds out, or will He just send me away?

Will He take one look at my garments and cast me aside?

I am past the point of no return, pouring all that I am on His feet.

All that I am and all that I am not, I have nowhere to hide.

 

It happens…they expose me as a woman of sin, one with a past.

Can there be any more shattered pieces of my heart on the floor?

My garments aren’t enough to cover me, I know I don’t belong.

The righteous room had been tainted by filth when I walked in the door.

 

But He defends me.  He acknowledges all of the love I have poured on Him.

He forgives me, waiving a debt that I could not have paid.

Suddenly I am clothed in peace that guards against the wide-eyed stares.

I thought I had been pouring my love, but I had been poured on that day.

 

I tell you all of this so that when you see one like me,

Whether in the mirror…or in a sinner bursting into the room,

Dare not to persecute, and dare not hold back your own praise,

Because no one knows the cost of your worship but you.

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