Embarrassed, I fell into line. I knew what was expected of me. Looking ahead, I could see the long line snaking up the hill. Our destination at the top of the steep incline could not be seen from where I was.

The sun beat down mercilessly, and I began to sweat from the weight of what I was carrying. The dust kicked up by so many shuffling feet soon covered everything.

The day dragged on, and my progress was painfully slow. The heat continued to build. Slowly, we inched forward. Mindful of the solemn occasion, everyone in line refrained from speaking. There was not much to be said.

Eventually, I reached the crest of the hill, and I could see what I had been moving toward. A long line of worshipers were still in front of me, but up ahead I could see the priest, on a small platform. He was dressed in a long, white robe that was dazzling in the sunshine. A gleaming golden headdress was on his head, and the front of his tunic was adorned with more gold and sparkling jewels. In front of the priest was a massive altar, plated with pure gold.

As they approached, the worshipers in turn placed their offerings one by one on the gleaming altar.

Finally, it was my turn. As he had said to the others, the priest intoned to me, “You must bring a sacrifice that is perfect in every way, an offering that is neither blind nor lame, neither disfigured nor deformed, a sacrifice without blemish or defect.”

I looked down at what was in my arms, and I felt ashamed. I saw that what I held was hopelessly flawed, blind and maimed, broken and ruined, an unworthy offering in every sense. But what could I do? It was all I had. I did not dare to look at the priest. As quietly and unobtrusively as I could, I dumped my wholly unsuitable offering onto the altar.

I kept my eyes averted, my head down. Tears began to roll down my cheeks. I knew my offering could never be acceptable. The situation was hopeless.

Gradually, by some unseen force that was beyond my control, I could feel my eyes being slowly pulled upward, until I was staring into the stern face of the priest. I could not pull my eyes away, but I cringed as I waited for him to pronounce my offering unacceptable. I waited for him to reject my offering and to reject me.

He opened his mouth to speak. Sternly, he intoned, “You have done well. You are a good and faithful servant. Your offering has been accepted.”

In disbelief, I stared dumbfounded at the man. And then my gaze slowly dropped to the altar, until I was looking once again at my miserable, unacceptable offering. I blinked, uncomprehending. There on the golden altar was my offered sacrifice. It was gleaming white in the sunshine and was perfect and whole in every way. And so was I. I bowed my head again, in gratitude this time. When I looked up again, the priest was looking kindly into my face, smiling radiantly.

This story is excerpted from the book The Cabin and other stories by James R. Coggins (Mill Lake Books).