Unmerited

I ducked into an adult book store late at night
nervous and not even sure why I went,
but I looked anyway stabbed by guilt,
then hide behind this one aisle
when a man entered from my church,
a pillar, a deacon and with a righteous reputation,
he bought some magazines,
stuff them in his raincoat
before he strolled outside.

After watching, my stomach churned,
shame swept over me,
leaving without even looking at a thing
or buying a single item

Sunday came and I nearly couldn’t enter the church door
still plagued by a sense of worthlessness,
greeted by that deacon who spilled all his
rehearsed religious jargon.

Dragging myself to a pew,
collapsing in a clump feeling so terrible
when a breeze blew over my face
only no one else could feel it,
inside I heard a still small voice
say, “I love you,”
peace came because at last I knew
my Lord’s favor never dependent
upon my being sinless.