It's Sunday again, and I'm on my way to hear all the
things that God has to say. My very own place where
no one can see. Each week I am there by my favorite tree.

I watch everyone as they're walking in, with dresses
of silk and suits for the men. I know they are blessed.
It shows on their face. They're happy to share God's holiest place.

I wish I could go, but I don't belong. I couldn't shame
God with clothes that are wrong. As I wait to hear the pastor's sweet voice, these dark clouds appear:  I must make a choice. With thunder so loud, and lightning all 'round, I run to the church through rain pouring down. I open the door, so quiet and slow. I'll stay in the back so no one will know.

As I turn around the silence was there. Heads turned one by one. They started to stare. The whispers I heard had hurt even more. Especially the one I heard by the door. "How dare she come in to this holy place . . . Her dress is just rags, with dirt on her face." I thought to myself, "How cruel they can be!" As I watched each one just staring at me. I felt so ashamed. My tears start to fall. I clung to my dress, not moving at all.

When I turned to leave I heard someone say, "Please
join us my friend. I've prayed for this day." His hand
covered mine. As I turned to see, the pastor had
tears in his eyes for me. He led me up to the very
front row. And whispered "God's pleased. You don't
have to go."

The carpet was soft as clouds in the sky. I saw paintings of the angels that fly. Such colors of red, bright silver, and gold. Yes, this really was a sight to behold. Unworthy I felt to be in this place. And then my eyes saw the pain on his face - - A statue of Christ that stood very tall. Mistreated by man, yet died for us all.

Then, I had noticed the dirt on His face, and rags that
He wore, in this Holy place. I looked at my dress - - so
ragged and torn. Yes this was the best that I could
have worn.

The pastor then smiled when he looked at me. He
knew this was what I needed to see. His thought
for the day when church was all through:
"Judge Ye Not Your Brother, For God Will Judge You."

In silence they left. He said no 'good-byes'. Then
he came by me with tears in his eyes. He said he
was glad for his answered prayer. I knew then
he'd seen me sitting out there.

Then on my old dress a white rose he laid. He made
it all worth the price I had paid. He said, "Don't you
know? It's God you must please? What's deep in
your heart is all that he sees." He held my hand tight,
then wiped my last tear. He said, "Please come
back. You are welcome here."

While walking back home cold rain on my face - - so
much like the eyes in "God's Holy Place."
I know now I'm rich. Yes, he made me see, God
even will love a person like me.

A special thanks to Freda H. Babinski for use of
her © poetry. Freda no longer has a site.
God Bless you and your family Freda
for sharing your God gifted talents.

How many of us are guilty of this sin of judgment?
We usually judge a book by its cover. It is for God
to judge, not us. As this writing says God sees the
inside of our hearts, we see the outside of a person.

As you listen to the song "Just As I Am" remember 
God accepts us as we are. If you don't know Him
attend preferably a New Testament Bible believing
and preaching Independent Baptist or Southern
Baptist Church.
Life offers many choices.
Eternity only offers two, Heaven or Hell,
the choice is yours.