THE WOMAN AT THE FEET OF JESUS Poem by Reinhard Bonnke

A prostitute came tripping in, a woman known as “harlot”
And Jesus happened to be there, the Father’s love incarnate.
Their eyes just met and then the ancient miracle commenced:
Deep wonder swept all over her, something she’d never sensed.
And great conviction moved her soul, what Scripture calls repentance
In brokenness, completely new, she found salvation’s entrance.

The woman, weeping with relief, stooped down to kiss Christ’s shoeless feet.
Rouge, lipstick, mascara, tears, all seemed to flow with awe and fears.
His feet, o no, just see the mess, were dirtied now by her distress.
She gasped – had she defiled the Lord, the pure and sinless Son of God?
What only could remove disgrace? She had no water in that place.
But thoughts did strike her mind so clear, that Jesus was as Savior near.

Her hair, her glory and seduction, the tool she’d used in her corruption,
And from a pocket of her raiment she pulled the best of entertainment:
A richly perfumed, costly unguent, reserved just for her richest client.
She rubbed His feet with ointment rare, and toweled them with silky hair.
It sanctified it and sanctified her; all filth removed, with none to stare.
God’s indiscriminate love that day had set her free – forever to stay.

The hypocrites kept criticizing that the Lord was compromising,
But Mary wondered: had they met on purpose, or was it accidental?
However then, she met Him again, when mourning at the grave.
What tearful eyes just couldn’t see, her ears picked up, when He spoke “Mary!”
She shot around, fell at His feet, which she already knew – or maybe not?
For now they had been pierced for her iniquity – her Jesus lived and she with Him – Eternally!

(With all my love, RB.) Please pass it on.



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