I'm guilty.
I'm covered in filth.
Who would want me?
Maybe when I've cleaned the dirt off my face, love will take me in.
I must attain perfection before approaching it.
But there's a voice that speaks above my sin.
"Come as you are."
...
This can't be right.
As I am?
No. I'm a mess.
I'm broken, sinful, and weary.
The answer remains clear.
*"Come as you are, beloved. You're still mine."