The Offering

All I have to offer you is bitterness and pain,
A heart of deepest darkness, stained with blackest shame.
All I have to give to you is stubborn, foolish pride,
A will that had forsaken truth to follow tempting lies.
All I have to show to You: a broken, wounded soul,
Shattered in a million pieces, longing to be whole.
Nothing left to give away: an empty, wasted life,
An angry child of hatred imprisoned in my strife.

How can I give to you, the King, the worst of all I am?
How dare I come before you now and in your presence stand?
What right have I to plead for grace and speak your sacred name?
How can I beg for unearned help when I bear all the blame?

I wait in fear for you to speak, trembling with guilt and dread,
I expect the verdict that I deserve, but instead, you lift my head.
You gently wipe my tearstained face and whisper in my ear,
“Your guilt has all been swept away, fear has no power here.
Draw near to me, my precious one, and hear what you should know.
Your once-lost life has been made clean, as pure as fresh new snow.
Your stubborn heart, your life of pride, your sin and your mistakes
That’s all I ever ask for, that’s what I long to take.”