The Unclean Cloth

Look back upon your past
Is your cloth clean?
Is it as white as snow?
Is the protection He so freely gave you
As stainless as it was the day you accepted His new covenant?

I should hope not!
How disappointed would He be
To learn that you have kept yourself separate from the dirt
From the grease and grime
From the blood and the sweat
From all that He immersed Himself in

How can you be proud to have not soiled your cloth?
If you are righteous, you will drag it through the dirt
You will go out into the stormlit night
You will wade through the marshes
You will be disdained by the captives
And spat upon by your brothers and sisters

Why do you wish for clean hands?
Wish for bloodstains
Wish for grease
Wish for mud

Some have have been ashamed of hands that are too soiled
I am ashamed of mine that are too clean
The Lord honors those who's hands are soiled
Who have done His work
Who have been last
Who have served the captives
Who have been ambassadors to the Enemy's prison

The highest place of honor
Is not reserved for the pure saints
Who distanced themselves from the filth of the streets
Nor those who simply sat and wrote
But instead, it will be set aside
For the unclean cloth