My heart has treasured, like a bag lady, the refuse and scum of this world. As I step before His holy throne my offering, my oil, my presented gifts are empty bottles mauled by the mouth of this world, left with remnants of spit and backwash and fit only for the dogs. Rags soiled with the stain and smell of those things man chooses to wash down the drain.

Why would this King of Kings bother with these abhorrent things???

Because these were the articles of my worship. Artifacts which stood between my unbridled passion, my yielded heart and ungarnished devotion.

These were my treasures and life savings, the penny for the plate. It was all I had to offer so He received it because it was what I loved.

Copyright © 1998 John Enslow