Loving Past the Auction Block

The woman’s figure is disgusting,

It is wretched on display.

Purity? Beyond her reach!

Condemned by our dismay.

One look at our society

And the red lights burn your eyes.

The hopelessness that’s bred today

Is treated like a prize.

Yet, she stands without expression,

And her shame is buried deep.

Her life has grown so worthless,

And her love is now so cheap.

Her face is chalked in make-up,

Any beauty is a fraud.

Forsaken by the world she hates,

Too ashamed to seek her God. 

Each day she spews her venom,

Her despair is up for sale.

She rejects the hope of love,

She has trashed her wedding veil.

Yet, there’s one who shows compassion,

And will treat her like a queen.

This whore is His beloved.

To us, she is obscene.  

Like Hosea bid for Gomer

Upon the auction block,

The Lord poured out His blood

To bring sheep back to His flock.

The woman is a trash heap —

Cast out by all who see.

She has failed to meet our standard.

At one time, this whore was me.

Let me not look away,

Teach me to love her face.

A hypocrite can cite Your law,

Help me to live Your grace. 

So when we’re in Your Kingdom,

And You gaze upon Your bride.
I will have shown compassion
To Your beloved — for whom you died.