The hateful fingers of the icy wind penetrate the girl's thin cloak as she stands outside the church, unsteady and afraid. Countless days she sat in that familiar building, sunday after sunday, feeling righteous and untouchable... and now she's here, unable to enter, but unwilling to leave. She has no where to go. Her friends... they scorn her. Those she looked up to let her down. Her mentors abandoned her, and her family denied her love. She is alone...
She carries the stain of her sin, she bears a name she's ashamed of. Many times she pleaded with them to leave her alone, but there is no relent. She can hardly handle her own guilt, let alone the scorn heaped on her by others. Her tormentors have long since forgotten that she has received her punishment, that she is dealing with the consequences. They take it upon themselves to remind her daily what a horrible, dirty woman she is.
The only consolation she has is that God knows, and He is just. Yes, it pains her greatly to know she brought shame to the name of the Lord, but at least she is not hiding guilt. Her fall gave her a sincere, penitent heart she never imagined possible. Her accusors will never know repentance until the day they are stripped naked before a holy God.
And now she is in agony, for she knows not whether to take her new-found faith and rebuild her tattered life, or to stay and petition the people to see their own hidden sins. Will they listen to the pleadings of a harlot? Or will it take mighty God to strike them down?
So she lingers in the shadows of Sodom, around the corner of Gomorrah, abused by the sinner and sanctified alike. The wind never ceases to blow, the enemy never fails to accuse. She is alone... abandoned by people, but adopted by God. Every day she is handed her scarlet letter through the glares and whispers of the passerby, and every day she gives it up to God. Repent falls from her lips as she cries tears for the lost. She sobs...
...when will they see... what will it take?
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