THE MUCH SHE LOVED

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The howling noises and sound of hurriedly matching feet distracted the group of worshipers. Their eyes widened in understanding. Their contemptuous expressions had them nodding self-righteously as she was cast at the Master’s feet by her hair.
She was dimly aware of her disheveled state as she clutched tightly at her tattered clothes, unsuccessfully trying to cover her nakedness. Her face was heaving with every gulp of air she took and her face was drawn in terror. She dared not look at the good master. Staring at her bruised feet, she listened to the indignant voices of her accusers as they subtly tried to explain the compromising situation in which they had found her. She laughed cynically to herself, trying not to remember the number of times they had sought her warm lithe body and the delicacies of her decadent pleasures.
She welcomed the silence as she mentally counted away the seconds, steeling herself to bear the pain of pelting stones. Who could have prevented the winds of destiny from blowing and bringing forth such misfortune? She had chosen her path and she would pay it to the bitter end!
‘’ Anyone without sin to cast the first stone,’’ rumbled a deep voice. The gathered crowd looked at each other and then away. Perhaps they saw a reflection of their sins reflected in each other. For this I do know, that a misdemeanor viewed through another person’s eyes looks graver and darker, and actually makes one cringe! And so they walked away, shoulders hunched in shame, from the oldest to the youngest. Eyes that had previously been dancing with malice were now fixated on the ground!
She raised her face and looked at their retreating backs. Her eyes registering bewilderment, she turned to her Savior. Then the sweet voice came again, ‘’isn’t there anyone left to condemn you?’’ Looking back and taking shuddering breaths of relief, she murmured, ‘’ No one… None…’’
She had slept with more men than she could count on the fingers of both hands. Men had used her body till she had no shreds of decency left. They had looked at her with both contempt and lust preying a haunted expression on their faces…
Yet here was a man like none she had ever met. ‘’ I condemn you not either. Go and sin no more,’’ he intoned. His words tinkled to her like lilting lyrics singing of MERCY and GRACE. She knelt at his feet as tears of gratitude stole from her eyes. A feeling of deep peace and joy inexplicable overwhelmed her.
She had been given another chance to live and live right! She looked at her Savior in utter awe. She had come into his presence a condemned sinner, a used and battered woman: Now she left a righteous woman, whole and having heard a voice of MERCY! And for the much that He forgave her, the much that she loved Him: Her GENTLE SAVIOR….
Beloved, the voice of mercy hasn’t grown still. It calls today to you and I… It promises rest and NO condemnation for them that are in Christ Jesus! Beloved, hear the Gentle Master’s sweet voice… Behold it calls and never tires!

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I have always been a Lover of Stories. They indeed are a healing art. My desire is that the bold strokes of my writing shall leave lasting impressions on the souls of my readers. That these stories will grow us as much as we grow them. It is an honour to be indulged in caring about words that have meaning, breathed into life via the labourious Love of a writer! Gracias!