Modern Day Mary Magdalene

Tears flowed from her eyes as she heard the choir sing. It was so peaceful—so serene. She doesn’t know what lead her here. What made her go inside this church? What was the reason? No one she knew was into church. But for some reason she felt the need to be inside of a church on this day. For the first time in her life she felt safe.

She felt eyes looking at her—judgmental eyes. She was used to people looking at her that way. Judging her. Looking down at her. She was used to it all. Her profession was indeed the cause of the judgment. She was a prostitute and her clothes matched that. A tight shirt that cut off at the stomach and revealed too much cleavage, a tight skirt that was way too short and six-inch high heels. This is what her wardrobe consisted of. But she heard church folks say all the time “come as you are.” This was who she was, but she wondered if they would accept her. Would God accept her?

She was fifteen when she left home. Her mother was an alcoholic and her father was absent. She was invisible, so she had the desire to be known. She was out on the streets for about a month when she eventually had to resort to using her body to earn money. One day a man told her how beautiful she was and offered her money for sex. Seeing how she hadn’t eaten in three days she accepted his offer. She wasn’t innocent or anything at that time. She had lost her virginity at the age of fourteen.

“He saw the best in me, when everyone else around could only see the worst in me,” the choir sung.

She looked down at her hands, which was placed on her thighs. Just last night she had a guy in between them. She wondered if God had seen that.

“He saw the best in me, when everyone else around could only see the worst in me.”

She couldn’t see any good in herself, so how can God see the best? She knew she was tired of this life style, so maybe that was a good thing? She was looking for a change, so maybe that was good too? But she didn’t feel worthy to follow God. But she remembered hearing that Mary Magdalene followed Jesus and rumor had it, she was known as a prostitute. So maybe, just maybe, she could follow Jesus too.

“He’s mine and I am his. It doesn’t matter what I did. He only sees me for who I am.”

She could be the modern-day Mary Magdalene. She liked the thought of that. She continued to ignore the judgmental stares. She hoped that God wasn’t judging her.

“He’s mine and I am his. It doesn’t matter what I did. He only sees me for who I am.”

She was in her twenties now and she felt wiser—stronger. She was ready for a change and although she wasn’t perfect, she hoped that God would accept her—would love her. She hoped that he would see the best in her.


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