I was in Germany for my job a few years ago. I got to wander the streets of Nuremberg with a few friends. It was a great time until…
Until my friends just happened to stumble upon the red-light district. I saw a woman, made in the image of God, standing naked in the arch of a door offering herself up for purchase. It was very sad.
…Imagine a dozen roses being trampled underfoot and ground into the pavement. Or your families heirloom vase being thrown crashing to the ground. The intended beautiful design gravely marred and belittled…
We didn’t walk down the street.
…Nuremberg is a beautiful city. The city from all I could tell is thriving. Yet it has places, I suppose like any city, where the thin veneer has washed away and the anti-creation is showing. Where the inner man is as visible as the graffiti on the walls…
Here’s a poem I wrote later that day:
Strained by tears that she wears inside
Never to hide
Ever inspected for beauty
Yet coldly rejected
Infected by the strain
The strain of prideful lust
Her bosom embraced but not with kind face
Ever the look of lust
She is a mere possession
A brief obsession
To use and then discard
Disregard that she’s a person and use her for your end
clothed in agony,
the only veil she knows
She roams the streets
Anything for the right price
O’ but this woman that we deface
Is more than a nice face
Men may have her
and hate her
but for her,
Christ He died!
Jesus cries, Daughter!
You are my daughter, no whore!
I will embrace and wipe your tears
I will love and calm your fears
O’ my child, for you I weep
I long to tenderly clothe you
To clothe you with love
To you, show the meaning of true love
When Jesus our King returns
Clean will be the streets