I saw her last Tuesday night as I have every Tuesday night since I took my second job. Tired and weary, seeking a few hours sleep before I start my “day” job, I see her. There is no deterrent. She trods along the ill-lit street; the one strewn with beer cans and fast food litter. She is determined, and she walks…every single night.

A passerby slows, rolls down his window and she approaches. They are too far away for me to hear anything, but it’s obvious that a negotiation is in progress. Tonight, the window rolls back up, and the passerby moves along. I wonder, though, how many times the passenger door is opened, and how many times she hops in for a short ride, around the corner, where no one can see.

“Detestable, trash, tramp….” My mind spills insults. “How sad. How can someone stoop so low?” Judgment is quick, and complete. I have made up my mind. Certainly there is no room in heaven for this person.

And, I drive home. Content in my judgment and feeling only contempt for the low-life scum that she is.

She is scum, right? I mean, how could anyone ever lower themselves to such levels. Countless men, countless nights, countless encounters, risking health, and her life, for a few bucks. Another statistic in the sex-for-hire trade along the streets of Nashville.

Chances are, she will be dead soon, either from a beating at the hands of a John, or as a result of a sexually transmitted disease, or from a drug problem. You don’t see too many 40 year old hookers, do you?

And when she dies, will there be room in Heaven for her? Will she join the triumphant band of saints, singing the praises of our Lord and Savior? Or, will she be cast aside, as she deserves, into Hell? Forever, without God.

My mind races again, as I climb into a warm bed, in my warm apartment, in my warm little town on the outskirts of Nashville; the town full of warm people, warm neighborhoods, and free of the kinds of behavior I have just witnessed in Nashville. My mind races to back to the thought “As she deserves”… and I stand still… if only for a moment, but the moment crashes around me like the weight of the world… “As she deserves….”

My God, who have I become? How is it that I feel the right to judge anyone? Who among us deserves ANYTHING remotely representing Heaven? And I realize that, tonight, I have made myself judge and juror of someone I know nothing about. And, instead of sharing the hope that comes from a saving knowledge of Christ, I have horded my salvation like some treasure buried in the backyard, hoping no one ever finds out about it, so I can keep it for myself…

And I realize, at that moment, that I am the one who deserves the fires of Hell. I am the one whose sin has been the judgment of others. My judgment has been harsh, and swift.

I climb out of my warm bed, in my warm apartment, in my warm town with my warm neighbors. I dress and go out into the cold dark night, 2:30 in the morning now. And I drive back into Nashville, to that same dark street where she walks, and I wait.

She appears around 3:00. I am now the passerby. I roll up to her spot on the street, slowly roll down the window, and she begins a negotiation. “ 30 bucks gets you anything you want…” My initial judgment was correct. She is a tramp…

“How about you meet me up at the waffle house. I will buy you a dinner, a cup of coffee, and we just talk?”

“It will cost you $30 bucks”

“Deal”

She sits in the booth. No shame, full of confidence and very talkative. “You don’t want nothing?”

“Nope”

“I mean for 30 bucks I would….”

“I want nothing. What’s your name?”

The conversation moved along at a rapid pace. Her name is Brittney. She is 19; she has a 2 year old child from a man who raped her when she was 16. He is now in prison for the rape. Brittney’s child stays with Brittney’s mom while she works at night. During the day, Brittney keeps the baby while mom works; a hooker too.

She sips her coffee. She has never had a man pay her just to sit across from her while she sips coffee and eats a waffle. She is puzzled. “Why did you do this? Why are we just sitting here? You don’t nothing? That’s “@RWU up”… a boisterous laugh. The waitresses in Waffle House know her. They know her mom. They are regulars.

“I just wanted to know who were. I just wanted to know your story. I needed to talk to you, for me”

There was no great theological expository. No force-feeding a gospel that, in the hands of slicked back hair wielding, expensive suit wearing TV preachers can seem so contrived and manipulative. I just wanted to know who she is.

We parted. I, to my warm apartment in my warm little part of Tennessee. She, back to the streets to make a living, to support a child who, without a father, will likely end up on the street as well. A third generation legacy.

But I do know this. Despite outward appearances, and despite circumstances, this is a courageous young lady. And, despite my judgment, and the judgment of other Christians, there is room in Heaven for Brittney, her mom and her little 2 year old child. She is a person who is loved greatly by God.

My sin was judgment. My sin was condemnation. My only hope is that there is room in Heaven for me.

Blessed are the poor in spirit,for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they who mourn,for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,for they shall possess the earth.
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for justice,for they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful,for they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure of heart,for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,for they shall be called sons of God.
Blessed are they who suffer persecution for justice sake,for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.