Readers of my blog:
I write this entry today because it was refreshing to know that the whole world isn’t against you.
You all know what I do, giving men “love” for money is the nice way of putting it.
Slut, whore, or streetwalker is what is more common to use.
I know I shouldn’t seel myself short this way, but I need extra money, and there’s not much I can do.
My mother is dead, my father disowned me, and I have no other family. No jobs want me they have “enough work for now”.
So it’s either this or staving–I wish there was a better way, but alas.
Alas, alas, no man REALLY loves me.
At least alas until to day.
It all started when I was walking into the store to do some shopping. I saw the lady who lives next to me. I smiled, she ignored me.
She goes to the church on the corner–I thought “God is Love”. God may be, but she sure doesn’t act like it.
Anyway I walk to the isle where the things I need were–hair gel and the sort–thinking of how I know my church going neighbor knows what I do. She can’t not now with all the guys and dates I have at my house.
I feel so little and meaningless in her sight. I wonder if that how God wants me to feel?
I remember a year ago I went to that very church on the corner and all eyes stared at me. I think my skirt was too short for their liking, but it was the only one I had, and I though they wouldn’t like it if I came in jeans.
I felt so bad and condemned, that I pretended to go to the bathroom and never came back.
Well, to continued with what happened today.
I was feeling a little alone as I walked to my car and I see a man on the side of the road.
His car battery was dead, as was his cell.
“Do you need help?” I asked.
He looked up, his eyes held kindness, “Yeah, thanks, do you have a cell phone?”
I laugh, “Well, yeah. . .at my house charging. But if you want to use jumper cables with my car I can help.”
“Yes, thanks.” he nodded.
I pulled my car up, and he used it, “Thanks, now how shall I repay you.”
I chuckle, “No charge.”
“No, you helped me.”
“No, I couldn’t take money.”
“Well, come to my church, there's a concert, you can come for free.” he offered.
“Sir, you don’t know what I’ve done. You don’t want me at your church.” I’d said.
“God will forgive anyone of anything if you ask.” he’d replied.
Yeah, all except me.
“What could you have done that’s so bad?” he smiles.
I tell him exactly what I’ve done, waiting for his smile to melt and have him flee from me–the harlot.
“That doesn’t matter, He’ll loves you anyway.” the man said.
“He loves. . .” I trailed.
“Yes, I have proof.”
“Really?” I wasn’t sure what to think.
He pulls a Bible out of the car, “It’s all in hear.”
“I know, it tells me I’m dirt and need God.” I said, sounding worse then I meant to.
“Well, not in those words, but that’s not what I was referring to. Here.” he under lined a bunch of stuff and handed me the Book, “Read this stuff, and if you want to come to church Sunday, I’ll be waiting. . .and so will He.” the man points to the sky.
“I don’t have a good skirt.” I said to see his face twist.
It didn’t, “Come is jeans if you like, God doesn’t care. I feel better in jeans myself.” he laughed, then drives away after saying, “Thanks agian.”
I look at the address he gave me.
It’s that church on the corner! Uh, uh, no way, those people are scary.
I came home, and after dinner, that Book kept getting my attention, so I read what this man said to.
It was about a woman that was thrown at the feet of Jesus after being caught sleeping with a guy that wasn’t her husband. Reading what Jesus did–not letting the people kill her and loving her enough to give her a second chance–I got a little misty eyed.
You know, I think I might just try that church again. After reading this it just made me realize that God loves me, and those other people aren’t really showing what God is.
He IS Love.
I see that God wants me there, even if the people don’t.
Besides, I have that one guy rooting for me. . .and this story says that Jesus is.
Jesus is a man who, this Book says. . .loves me.
My mind is made up, I’m going.
It’s good to know you have Someone out there that loves you!
So, readers, until next time,
(Author’s note: I think that making Bible stories modern really makes them hit home harder sometimes. Even if we don’t realize it, we think of the Bible characters as just that–characters. But they were real people with real problems. Just like us! And they struggled with a lot of the same stuff we do. Just like us, they didn’t know how their story ended. . .till it did.)
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